Perfect humility
is not a destination. The
paragraph is not perfect, though it appears to be humble. All forms
contain their own predictability. What to do about the wall that runs
through our living room. In the book about donuts, one house bears a
sign, “Don't feed the living room.” It's a book about love that
ends when the boy with too many donuts saves an old woman in
a cellar from drowning in bad
coffee. The paragraph's borders are porous only in content; the form
is
fixed. I took photos
of places the dog stopped on her walk: a
grass patch, a
yellow leaf, the bottom of a
light pole, a gap
in a blue fence,
a white pipe,
an abandoned plate lunch, a
brown dog, the neighbor's cat. When
I stepped in the elevator I knew someone had been drinking.
Trump's Vodka lives at the
end of one the spokes in a diagram of his Russian
connections. The dentist drinks vodka, my mother told me, because it
doesn't smell.
President's Day
--20
February 2017
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