from Vault
Our living in this world of things, Love, sometimes takes shape as a thing, a something sensible and small, the misplaced charm that can keep straying lives touchable. And I’m waiting for you again, this time in the coffee shop. There seems to be a bee floundering in my coffee and the waiter is too busy to bother about this. The bee and I agree that we are both frightened; the bee, because he will drown. Myself, I am afraid of being stung and because, though I have tried and tried, indifference is not possible, not even in this shiny, meaninglessly immaculate place where all anyone wants is a clean napkin and a refill. |