Gesturing to paint-splattered clothing...
Teacher: Did you say in a zombie warehouse?
Student: Yes. I paint the dead.
And if that can't be an excused tardy, I'm not really sure what is. Some days, I seriously love what I do. If this doesn't work into my new poem about a city, I think it will have to be its own teacher poem. The new book doesn't have one yet and though I tire of them, what can I do when my students work in zombie warehouses. On other days, I sometimes feel like I do, too.
Today has been pretty good. Long phone-call with my injured Georgie. Dinner plans tomorrow night. An attempt to live here and claim here and forget how the town hums with an old energy that used to send me all magnetized to the Broad Street exit.
Now it's Neil Avenue and as Steve Earle (b/c you haven't heard that name yet this day, have you?) says: "let's magentize this mo-fo." Let's magnetize every f-ing mo-fo, indeed.