M’Love and I finally had some time off to be together. Both shows have gone out the door and farther, to the Winnipeggy Fringe. Thank the ghods they’ve left!
Saturday was declared a no-demands zone. None at all, about anything. Music was made and plans were set in malleable flesh.
Stone was not welcome. It had been rude at the door.
We wended our way to the shops eventually, needing some things not in the house. Dallying became pastime and treasures were found in unlikely places.
We brought home
a found bag of pictureframes, golden and red with silver,
(so many we haven’t the pictures yet to fill them)
a cooking pot, brown glass and welcomed
a box of plastic boxes, spelling doomsandwiches and middle-age,
(next we’ll crave children, to go with the tupperware)
cards with questions, Vancouver related
(“Socrates drank it and died – we named a street after it. Which one?)
another game, this of pool, with cues the size to eat rice with
(the balls are tiny and surprisingly dense)
a costume, of red shimmer – full skirted and beautiful – for love lingering
(and bellydancing)
The sari I am thinking to wear till it falls, dead, in shreds at my feet, like skin, discarded.