slick

humid and heavy all morning. i see the rain shapes on the radar, gliding into fort worth. like a wall. i think of the porch at collinwood, the uneven paint, my cacti drowning in the onslaught.

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i wear my new dress, old black flats with soles worn near through. i am crouching, my thighs tense, eating cold ginger fried rice under an overhang outside the lbj school. they keep it like a meat locker inside. i can't get my mind off that one thing. it never really leaves.

i don't want it to. the rain is a peaceful background reminder.

--

it's still drizzling, all through my evening work, as i walk uphill to my car, feeling odd because i don't usually drive, but also because i am by my nature preoccupied. occupied already.

it's hard to see when it's humid like this and raining at night. i don't drive well at night because all the lights and my glasses, they don't agree. rain doesn't help.

i pull up by the house and for once i'm not thinking about anything except for the cheddar cheese i am going to eat with crackers as soon as i set all this down.

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i love that moment when you hit the light switch - the lamp in my case - and there's this flood of illumination, everywhere.

somehow, even when my days are good, maybe even great, there is a way that things creep into them - brief, small - and take a good day and make it exceptional.

i don't know how to tell you, really. if i did i would have already.