Good morning starshine

The Earth says "Hello!"

Blustering winds and inky clouds threatened rain this morning, then shrunk away with their storms between their legs. I watch them recede in the sky, and wonder: is it so unacceptable to be grateful for what I have, while simultaneously mourning all I have lost? As you will recall, this is hardly the first time I have been at odds with myself.

There are ways, I know, to hint at life's composition without betraying its underlying banality. I could concoct all manners of ways to put a shine on it all — transform this time spent writing a blog entry while listening to Classical Radio on Apple Music into something more along the lines of: a tune set to spin for the interim of keys clacking, music only heard when the thoughts take just a bit longer to come than the fingers can type. After all, I know you prefer the sultry stanza, the repetition, the alliteration, the poetic offerings of truths shaded by so many curtains.

And yet.

Life is not like literature.

Mine least of all these days. Yours? Perhaps a bit more so. Perhaps I will jerk awake and open my eyes one morning only to discover that I have confused reality with fiction, and that all these years I have actually been in love with a tragically flawed character from some Charles Bukowski story I read in college.