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Dangerous Compassions

hope

“No, thank you,” I said.  “Ice cream seems hopeful, and I don’t have any hope.”  He was eating some Trader Joe’s chocolate ice cream, straight from the carton.

“We don’t have the right flavor anyway,” I added.  “I need anti-patriarchy flavor.”

He poured some popcorn into a bowl for me at my request.

For lunch we stopped at Blinder’s Burgers, my favorite vegan burger joint, right now.  It’s near the hospital. 

There were thunderstorms, and we watched the rain pour down.

Leaving, the intersection was flooded, so we went the other way.

Home, I watched ice balls bounce on the ground.  They weren’t round–they seemed irregular.  Like the sky was spitting ice chunks at us. 

“Oh, oh!” I said, running for the door, in my yellow summer dress.

Thunderstorms are a good mystery, for me.  I don’t get why the sudden downpour with the thunder boom, why the hail.  But that’s cool.  I can just enjoy it.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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