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Dangerous Compassions

inconvenient truth

I’m so anxious I can’t sleep.  I decided I need help, so I asked Ming to boil some water.  I keep a ziplock of oatstraw tea in my emotional first aid kit.  He said he’d put on his pants and get some paper cups from the car.

“You don’t need to put on pants,” I told him.  “No one will see you.”  He was wearing chonies–it’s not like he would flash the world.

“Okay,” he said.  “But what about the mosquitoes?”

“They’re sleeping,” I said.  “They like dusk and dawn.  They’re wearing their nightcaps and sleeping.”  I laughed.  “Oh, they look so cute,” I said.  “They have the red and white pjs.  Plaid flannel.  They have it good, those mosquitoes.”

“No no no,” he said.  “Wrong wrong wrong.”  He was shuffling toward the door.

“She in her kerchief and I in my cap, had all settled down for a long mosquito nap!” I said.

Earlier I told him I’d thought of the perfect name for a bull with horns: Al Gore.

Weep for what little things could make them glad.

Leafy nest.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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