In Ashton Cemetery, there are signs
of a cold radiance and absorption:
a toy under a wreath blown over,
a wet condom in the parking lot,
a trucker catching up on sleep.
The bare trees rustle like animals curious
but too depressed to hunt.
Monday: The weather was nice for my walk to El Centro. (This after some goofiness in the forecast: 70s on one day and snow the next.) On the way, I passed through the West Transfer Station and noticed two interesting things. First, there is a kind of history of Dallas etched into parts of the cement. Second, there is a sign that contains a long list of rules of behavior. It makes me sad that the world is so full of people who don’t know how to act and have to be reminded via signage.
While grading papers, I listened to The Elephant Sleeps But Still Remembers by Jack DeJohnette and Bill Frisell. Was listening through the Bluetooth on my phone. Enjoyed it so much, I continued listening as I walked back, departing from my usual habit of trying to note the sounds of the city around me.
Pain did not get as intense as the previous days and didn’t hit until I was near my destination each time. I don’t know what that means, but I’m grateful.
Thursday: I’ve decided I need to measure how far it is between my office and the division office. Sometimes it is all I can do to get from one to the other.