by Angie Ellis
And here I sit on a chilly, pine needle morning—the trees cut black against the watery
tangerine sky. Poetic .
I’m mentally going over my speech. No, my proposal. A statement of deeply felt resolution.
“Don’t be mad, but . . . listen. How are you feeling about this?” (Gesture between us.) “Remember when we fought about which seedy bread to buy for sandwiches in Tofino? What a stupid life, right?” (I’ll laugh here because it’s stupid in a funny way, but I won’t laugh so hard as to imply the memory is a fond one.) “You know […]