I have been painting at night. I like the quiet of driving in the early to mid AM hours on the interstate. The touch of danger and the solitude at medium speeds.
King Duck reigns kindly over Alligator Bill and Lenny the stink pig. Soulless grasshoppers in the weeds and the afternoon thunder–Summer in the south.
You talk to your mom. You lock your keys inside the house with your empty pockets outside. You think about going to the mailbox but don’t quite make it to check for checks.
I find most of the days could be swapped for others. My dog knows them all to just be “days.” She follows the world by smell and sunlight ratios. She ignores billing cycles and what meeting is next. Lucky dog.
I am still painting the doughnut shop. I see a lot of asian students. The alarm goes off but I realize it is not mine. I spoke to a kind acting homeless type man. He didn’t ask me for a thing–just told me I was doing a good job. His elastic waist shorts were falling down as he held his sleeping bedsheets and blanket under his arm. The air was very muggy. I am going home.