Ice is dripping off the eves. The sun wants us to believe in it’s power to bring summer winds through our open windows. It’s yellow heat causing air streams to bend and collections of convections to spin. I want to believe the sun’s pretence. And yet I know he shines brightly over frozen fields with no power over our part of the earth. Sun, I don’t trust you.

Today begins the the last ditch efforts to be prepared for the weekend. I need to bring my White Angel in to the house and reattach the foam under the deck. I won’t have time after today.

I need to cut my hippie-hair. I’m not sure why exactly. There are days I look in the mirror and ask myself, “Why bother?”. Old, fat & stupid cannot be covered by shorter hair. Yet, I suppose I’ll go listen to some strange lady tell me about her favorite television show to the rhythm of scissors coming dangerously close to my ears.

I woke up funny today. Not sure what or why. But I don’t trust the sun. When the universe is in question everything else is up for grabs. These are the days when the sea calls me with her siren voice. “Come play.” she says. I hear her voice. I watch her fluid motion with desire. In the back of my mind I know even she cannot be trusted to keep me safe. And yet I am compelled to come into to her arms.