Wednesday, June 20, 2007


Oh, God.

I lost my signal during one of our marathon phone calls — the first in almost forty-eight hours, so I was beginning to wonder whether all the good things that had happened had not actually happened, or had not been mutual after all — and somewhere between losing the signal here and returning the call from the McDonald's up at the junction, all the good news seem to leach out of the atmosphere.

Our next visit is indeed coming up quite soon, but after that it looks like a long, long drought.

I was crushed: first, because I had in fact spent the afternoon looking up various extra days I could take off work to trek out into the Big Woods, and secondly, because what I came up against was the priority of other things and people in his life. It was the contrast between my foolish hope and the reality of things that sent me spiraling down, and then the fact that he took my disappointment as an accusation — I am apparently not the only one carrying baggage from a previous relationship....

Not a good day for Trolls.

And I was fool enough to stay up late to finish the third poem posting anyway, instead of doing a project for work that I am meant to have in hand this morning. Oh, God. No fool like an old fool.

Or so they say...
Don't tell me if you agree.

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