Refracted Neurons

“I wish he’d quit with the damned shoe already,” Stella complained. “I know,” laughed Maggie, “He’s tried to put it on me three times already.” “Maybe he likes you,” Stella rolled her wheelchair forward a few inches so she could see better. Ash, unaware of their gossip, was trying to flag down another co-ed on her way to class. Stella watched amused, as Ash chased the woman, waving a stiletto heel in the air. “Riiiiight,” Maggie frowned, then sighed, “You really should have come, Stella. I’ve never been to a dance like that before. No one knew who anyone was.” “Yeah, yeah.” Stella usually went to all the dances, but this one had struck a sour note with her. A masquerade ball, with full face masks sounded like fun, unless you were the one person everyone would recognize anyway. Annoyed, she had told Maggie she wasn’t going; even while she was buying a ticket and shopping for a dress. The dress still hung in her closet, its blue sateen shimmering even in the darkness, a ...

It is too late in the season for that amber disk to do anything other than warm me. Past the days of blossoms, of seed, of attrition, you are a blackthorn spring, a sun, spotted with the nip of winter. It is too late for the stretch of shadows, for the buzz of honey   that fills your mouth when you breathe. Here are the days of blossoms, of seed, of regeneration. of you, of unripe blackberries, and the vines of my soul take root. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The weather has been unusual for this time of year. It's as cold as the hand of death reaching out of a grave, but the sky is that piercing blue we usually only get in the summer. None of the plants have been fooled by this, and I certainly haven't been fooled. Just a little precipitation and we'll have snow. Seattle, via airplane For the moment at least, it's got me thinking of summer instead of Christmas.