There’s not much logic in any of this, I know. Until someone brings us back home, we don’t know what we’ve done, and then we’re as shocked as anyone. - Naoki Higashida, ‘The Reason I Jump’ It’s hot as blazes by the grill but the chicken smoke is dense and deep and I stand in it like a Hollywood creation. Charcoal fires wrap a man in something superficially true and noble. The scent- combined with your own baby hippo hunger/ and the fact that you are probably drinking/ or if you’re not drinking, fine/ but you are still probably not at work, because you are at a BBQ, and that means that you’re more than likely in a pretty good mood, all things considered.
PS: The way you write about your wife reminds me of bits of Adrienne Rich’s “Twenty-One Love Poems.” Poem III (all of it) or the first nine lines of poem XII especially in this particular post. Check her out if you haven’t
“We are living in a poem but I need to get it right.“
Relatable, and well said.
PS: The way you write about your wife reminds me of bits of Adrienne Rich’s “Twenty-One Love Poems.” Poem III (all of it) or the first nine lines of poem XII especially in this particular post. Check her out if you haven’t
Yeahhhhhh...
Steam of consciousness suits you well. Chicken Smoke, indeed.