we are all as safe as eggs

January 22, 2004

I wrote the most beautiful poem in my sleep last night. In my dream, I was walking with one of my friends on the beach. She was tense about her daughter, and the sky was leaden. We walked to relieve tension, and as I watched her walk ahead of me, I wrote a poem. Naturally, I forgot most of it upon awakening. The subject line is the only line I fully remember, and it is of course, taken out of context.

I can see this is going to be one of those abundant comma days.

Let’s see. On the agenda today – rent Pride and Prejudice from the library. Build a website for somebody else. Finish my Polaroid gallery. Pet the kitty. Draw in my sketchbook, or somehow fuel my creativity without caffeine or sleep deprivation. Write my daily word count.

This doesn’t count. We are all, we are all rather safe as eggs.

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