felt sure there was one in my garbage can. could BARELY drag it to the curb. who put something in my can? I didn't. what is it?
looked around last night in the dark but without a flashlight or desire then to know the horrible, horrible truth.
woke bravely. the garbage truck coming around the corner, picking up the heavy, heavy thing, the mechanisms themselves straining. oh god. here we go. what is IN there?
garbage truck - doused in a torrent of water.
okay. not peripherally involved in a homicide case. can go to work now. will have to make my own drama today.
3 comments:
dear diary,
have satisfactorily created drama.
note to self: no more drawing field trips at 8am. over my dead body.
What I like best is that I'm never sure if you're describing a dream or waking life. That's living I say!
i'm not sure there is much difference between the two in my impressionistic existence.
glad if it seems like a good thing though!
glad also there wasn't a corpse in my can: not totally impossible on my street.
Post a Comment