The paycheck problem persisted until 1:30 pm. It’s Thursday, and the sunny skies darken, and the clouds are heavy. It’s jueves. No, it’s Huebes. It’s Mutngaan, in the month of Panlagkat, in Bisayan. What day is it?
On Thursday, I stepped out. Took the neighbor’s dog (with permission)
for a walk. No, a run. Didn’t realize there were deer in the field,
who gave Lucy good chase across the property line. But deer can leap over fences.
I’ve seen them play — they play at chasing and nipping each other, and leaping. They’re good at it; and they pivot their ears like radar. They listen well.
I remember Gracie chasing the deer, too. But her belly always got in the way.
Lucy’s energy seems to have no boundary. I call and call. She returns around every fifth call, then rushes off again.
At last, she tires, and lays on the drive. The sky grows darker. My shoes are wet.
Random lines from my bookshelf:
“All buildings are built to fall — it’s not until they’re gone that you feel the presence of their architecture. The tragedy of the paradox is how your heart can feel the air of emptiness.” — Jonathan Hayes, from “Saxifrage and Sepulchre,” Otoliths four, part one.
This is also Thor’s day; guy with a hammer.