Week in Seven Words #547

This covers the week of 7/12/20 - 7/18/20.

barbering

The barber works outdoors on a path by the lake. At his station: a chair, a radio, a case of supplies, and scraps of hair softening the ground.

dragonflies

The air above the water is glittering with dragonflies. They swoop around in taut ellipses. They also bring to mind a faint memory, one that remains unrealized: that the word "dragonfly" once stood as a code for something, when I was a kid.

humidity

Humidity settles in like a rude, sweaty man arriving late to a concert, filling the seat next to you with body heat and sticky elbows and the moistness of the breath he expels through his mouth. 

pose

People pose before the words Black Lives Matter, which have been painted in large yellow letters on the street. When they're done taking selfies and group photos, they walk past a bus stop where two black homeless men are curled up on the ground (#noeyecontact #nocomment #quicksteps).

preserved

A shuttered museum, the garden behind the gates still beautifully tended.

thinly

Small businesses are evaporating, though some restaurants stay afloat with outdoor seating. For pedestrians, there remains a narrow path between tables arranged on sidewalks. Near one cafe, a homeless man sleeps on a discarded sofa, about a dozen feet from diners who can finally say they're eating out.

zooming

The funniest joke I hear this week is the one about the cost of different streaming services. The most expensive one is Harvard, at roughly $50,000 a year.

Week in Seven Words #334

chirruping
A waterfall of bird chatter in the hour before dawn.

creeds
Tracing threads in the development of a religion. A move towards greater compassion here, an intensifying disgust of women there. Scholars scrambling to tie together the disparate threads.

fuzz
He's straining to grow a beard, so he can look like a worthy substitute for a respected older teacher. As he lectures, he scratches his cheeks.

letdown
After struggling over whether or not to call him, I reach for the phone, only to have it ring as soon as I touch it. Our conversation doesn't go well.

malfunctioning
If only my laptop could talk back. It would freeze halfway through its request for me to stop cursing at it.

misdeed
I show up five minutes late to find the stage set for a courtroom scene. I'm the accused.

perfidious
We watch Chamber of Secrets together, and the part that upsets him most isn't the basilisk, but the teacher betraying the students and threatening to wipe out their minds with a spell.

Week in Seven Words #324

braying
He bullies away the gaps in his knowledge, filling them with loudness.

dispensing
The driver reacts to the near-collision by shouting at everyone else.

follicular
Wind that could tear the hair from your scalp.

jitters
When asking for feedback on her poems, she doesn't expect a blast of criticism, but braces herself just in case. It's an act of vulnerability.

lakeside
The branch has landed in a silken reflection of trees and clouds.

perch
The tree has a bare trunk and a tangled mass of branches at the top, like a nest for a giant bird.

portraiture
I pose badly, she says. It's in the way I hold my chin, look past her shoulder, keep my lips pursed so I won't laugh. But it doesn't matter, because the end result is the same: two sets of ellipses for eyes and glasses, a beaming crescent mouth, and a nose that looks like a raven in flight. I cherish it.

Week in Seven Words #192

awkwardness
A guy, a gal, and a third wheel are sandwiched together on a crowded bus. The guy and gal feel each other up and occasionally remember to include the third wheel in their whispered conversation. The third wheel laughs a lot and shares anecdotes about weird cellphone conversations she's recently had.

exposure
They find the strength to meet beneath the harsh lights and talk. They understand each other's inertia, emptiness and fear.

flaxen
Gold hair on a dappled picnic blanket.

hemmed
On one side of the park there's a broad river, tolerating a few sailboats on its shuddering back. On the other side, there are rows of buildings that look like cardboard boxes.

otherworldly
Her voice is lovely and sorrowful. She remains still as she sings, even when the children chase each other around her waving their swords and shrieking.

pimpled
Restless crowds seek junk food and bad comedy on a beautiful day.

robotic
Sometimes they don't sound human. They talk about themselves as if they're machines that need the right kind of tuning, the optimal dosages of medication to keep their parts moving.

Week in Seven Words #189

acutely
Traffic noise pours in through the window with the cold air and sharp lights.

flavorsome
She's brought lunch for her child in a Tupperware container. She peels off the lid and releases the scent of deli meat. For a moment, we can all taste the sandwich.

nimbus
She prefers to straighten her hair, but I like it as it is, in an orange cloud around her head.

outlook
One of the young men speaks about visiting Syria on an idealistic mission of cultural outreach. The other shakes his head and tells him he'll get his throat cut out.

presence
Being present in the moment, experiencing hope but relinquishing expectations.

tranquility
The room is bathed in gray light. I linger for a few minutes, enjoying the calm.

whole-hearted
As the gates close, they crowd in around me. There's an urgency to the chanting and murmuring.