Sunday, Awake

Yesterday we sat on the sofa and listened to Mark Kozelek’s record Among the Leaves. It’s rare we get to sit and listen to a record, rewind to follow the lyrics and read along. The slow transition of light and fog, morning. The layering of coffee, impending monkey mind, anything is possible.

We go to the off-leash dog park: they are everywhere, in every imaginable breed. Their owners are all the same, the polite but drab northwesterners, many are socially awkward. They have their dogs.

We donate to a charity that supports the park through some acronym I didn’t pay attention to, but got a calendar for it and let her keep the change. Ginger bites at the water, leaves footprints on my car, sleeps well. 

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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