the days are getting longer now, you know. we're creeping up on summer but it's hell and back til we get there. january's rough and february's a rapist. so is the crimson archer, he and all of his arrows dipped in blood. he's no innocent, i'll tell you. march pleads insane and can't seem to make up her mind, seventy one day and snow the next. with april comes the past-time and sunnier skies lie ahead....
you see the daffodils? they always show up in the driveway by easter. doesn't it make you smile? they're the first green of the year. green is the color of life, you know. from death comes life. from death comes life. rejoice, my dear, you have no idea what this means. not even a clue. but smile with me. take my hand. we'll enjoy the warmth and the green to-day. it might not be here to-morrow, you know. fret not for to-morrow, for to-day has enough worries of its own.
enjoy your worries.
you may never have them again.
when snow comes to the angry city, peace resides. everyone slows to a gentile pace and when the fog comes, the city breathes. it's heavy breathing, you know, the kind right before you fall into the coffin of deep slumber but aren't quite there; it's more than sleeping but not quite dying. it's beautiful. in fact, beautiful's not even the word. how about: bella. the angry city is bella to-day. but only for a few hours. soon the dirt from the autos will stain the satin white blanket and, kicked around by restless slumber, wrinkles will form everywhere. you know, the kind of wrinkles you can't iron out. not even with a steamer.
lucy'd be upset.
but to-day is the solstice. we're three days from christmas and the summer sheets still haven't been packed away; you can still see the dead brown dirt. the white satin blanket only comes out when it gets really cold. here we cover up with the summer sheets more than we'd like, even after the solstice. the coal stoves keep us warm and, for now, that is all we need. the green will be here before you know it.
and so will you.
c'mon. take my hand, the grass is soft. so is the sunlight. take off your shoes, we'll go barefoot for a while, but only a little while, i can't stand it longer than that. can you believe it's been ninety-one days already? never thought the old man would die, but he did. just like last year.
sometimes you just have to hold the pillow over his face longer than is comfortable.