Dangerous Compassions


It’s kind of amazing how many farmers markets we go to.  The corn guy likes to talk to Ming.  Yesterday, Lompoc.  Today, Arroyo Grande.  I bought a cucumber and put it in my purple bag.

Today we had Thai food with my mom and aunt.  I liked my curry with mock duck.  The music was terrible smooth jazz, but the conversation was okay.

In the night I had a bad dream about cops.  Now Ming is sleeping.

We pulled weed seeds from a pink blanket.  We borrowed the blanket years ago and used it on the ground, but it got full of stickers.  Also some stain that we don’t know where it came from.  The stain came out entirely in the wash, but the stickers didn’t.  So Ming and I stood outside in the sun pulling the stickers out of the blanket for a while, quietly.

He put the stickers on a piece of tape so they wouldn’t escape and stick in other things, like carpet.

Anyway, my brother bought his dog Lola over.  She’s old and has to take pills.  She peed on the carpet in Mom’s room.  I said maybe Lola’s losing her marbles, and is she the age of losing her marbles?

I have a story about Lola.  Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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