Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Week in Seven Words #325

The tulips look like a tipsy choir, open-mouthed and unsteady.

He practices a dramatic swivel in his parents' office chair - revealing himself to the room with menace and flair. Like a responsible adult, I suggest that he pretend to hold a whiskey glass, maybe a cigar.

She treats my emotions as an inconvenience. Like, why can't I just not have them? Consider how much simpler life would be.

The shivers of a robin in a bird bath.

Lemony willow leaves stain the pond. A child showers the ducks with gold and brown crusts.

We part ways, for good I think, and all I am at this point is tired.

"I don't know what I'm doing, but I'll survive by pretending I do," is their way of working, and I don't know if I want to roll my eyes at them or give them a hug.