Thursday, January 19, 2006
i rest in sheets like light silk scarves wafting around my legs, enveloped in the rose satin pouf that my mother gave aunt anna belle for her wedding in 1940, floating slippily in down-filled pockets of warm over crochet and cotton and wooly felt bedslippers. it is 44 degrees, the air is crisp and--what is this irritant, this niggly sharpy thing that’s poking under me? oh. potato chip.
sigh.
Posted by
e on 07:59 AM •
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the story of e began on January 17, 2006