snippet from Creme
Creme
the living room television is bright with sound...bright like the computer fan
singing its steady cpu song....Dull like outside the damp low clouds stalled and
waiting like overcoats in the bus hut....the monotone swerving against the horizon.

I could feel my skin itch...feel it crawl with anticipation and bad nerves...I smiled
to the mirror so see whom I was today and I grimaced back! "Hey thats the spirit"
spirit and I smiled thumping down the stairs with a tray of leftovers and a half
finished cup of black coffee..At the bottom the dogs face looked up...It was a month
since we were out last...Sometimes the woods got too me...the trail was longer then
I remembered and I could feel the depth and distortions swirling like a storm..

I hadn't changed my pockets with the multitude of items for so long I had forgotten
what was in the bottoms..I just hung it on the vacume like a totem item. Wake from
the dream lair..sweep aside the thin curtains to the pale light and stare..the yard forever looked the same...the same bundle of little sticks the dog chewed and threw
up...something noxious in the bark...the little diggings...the odd stone turned up
and lain out there like a sand pipers egg...

the hot water heater ticked with its expanding intricate coat...the small rumble
of the gas churning the tank full for the morning laundry..the morning shower if so
pleased....the dark ground roast coffee with half submerged spoons in its depths..
And the half plastic filled baggie of creme..so delicious and sticky in the cup
forming like clots on the surface...the lid never fitting right in the single serve
dispenser...the black little gritty coffee grounds going round and round...
reminded me of sawdust when I worked in the mill..sticking to the sweat of my face
my lips drawing in air as we worked hard in extertion pushing the hardwood flats
through to the sawyer..always tangy...the dust...aromatic with the ozone from the
old electric motors..

I need my soft soothing pillow to crush my head...my wild hair into..the blanket
that still retained the dryer sheet on the bottom the static cling....I had grown
fond of it...It was like a travelling sticker of a voyage...each night the dreams
spoke loud.....

I was at the diner...the window bank facing up towards the street..the cars hunched.

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This author has released some other pages from Creme:

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