When I got up it was dark and raining. I went outside to clean up dog poop because I needed something to do. The DJ was playing all songs about the election, and it seemed like every word meant something more. I sat at the light and watched the rain, a light, feminine rain, and thought for a minute it looked pretty but then it turned to a hard, hateful rain: the kind of rain that seems like it will never stop. It sounded like I had my head in a chimney the way the rain beat the hood, a scattered roar, the sound of fire choking on itself. Before I got through the light I caught myself crying and thought how funny, how “Seattle,” sobbing in my car like that. I took Charlotte to the store later for a baguette and let her buy some Jell-O. We saw a kid I recognized her age and I said hi to him but Charlotte was embarrassed, she said he’s weird—I said he needs help and she said yeah, a LOT of help and I said then be kind to him, really kind. That’s the difference between us Charlotte, be a leader. It’s like the last Grateful Dead concert Loren said, Mickey Hart came out after the applause and the last thing he said was just Be Kind, that’s all he said.
Image borrowed from the Tarot, the nine of Swords.