Watery, drab spring, and vertigo, and the necessity to make a living keep me inside doors so much. Tonight: a walk, under the moon.
Distinctive scents of home; whiff of honeysuckle along the 4-laner amid storefronts and garages. Moving away from mercury lights, toward the houses - strong spirea, clover, fresh cut grass, exhaust and asphalt.
The sounds; the way live music sounds warm, muffled, emanating from the bar and grill. Not looking in, just glad people are out, are together. Two horns, vying against one another up the road, their engines as angry as their drivers.
Full moon cool, distant, and remote. Sheen of its light on a peaked slate roof.
It is so damned lonesome here. When the walk is already over.
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