Sunday, October 09, 2005
could have been anywhere
The dogs were movie quality dogs, tiny and big, spotted. A big one tried to eat the croissants. A big one looped across the field like a horse.
The bases were white undershirts that didn't stay white. We played until we were tired.
And we were movie quality, almost. People stopped to watch. The vendor pushing a cart of ice cream stopped to watch. The bum stopped to watch. I was almost movie quality with my red numbered T-shirt and long-sleeved undershirt and jeans and curly brown pigtails and impatient jiggling in the outfield. I could be Maggie Gyllenhaal, Zooey Deschanel on a good day. On a good day, what is it I would want?
She's serious; she's tied her hair back.
This is not a movie, I tell myself. It's a little dirtier. There's trash on the ground. There's a smell.
I am in it. This is what forgetting feels like.
And what does this have to do with your writing? he asks. What does your life have to do with your writing?
She's SAFE, they said.
Posted by Alison Stine