As if the back streets of our local city might dispense with their pyrrhic accumulation of dust and wineful tonality, offer a reprise of love itself, a careless love rendered grand and persuasive by its own shy handful of hope, some ballast such as this on a summer afternoon when the air smells of slaughtered chickens, and other problems, like the estranged spouse of a good friend, holler from the passageway. It's always conclusive in the bungled moment after you try to accomplish something irreducible. So you say as you return empty-handed from the store, having forgotten everything--your money, the list.
Charlie SmithAs if the back streets of our local city might dispense with their pyrrhic accumulation of dust and wineful tonality, offer a reprise of love itself, a careless love rendered grand and persuasive by its own shy handful of hope, some ballast such as this on a summer afternoon when the air smells of slaughtered chickens, and other problems, like the estranged spouse of a good friend, holler from the passageway. It’s always conclusive in the bungled moment after you try to accomplish something irreducible. So you say as you return empty-handed from the store, having forgotten everything–your money, the list.
Charlie Smith