Smoke lifting straight up

Having discovered that facing down relieves sinus pressure, I've rigged up a harness (out of bungie cords and slats from a futon frame I found in the alley) that suspends me from the ledge over my balcony. My neighbours are used to my contraptions--one of which did, after all, defeat the pigeons this season--and so far no one has spoken up at the sight me attached by my shoulder blades, tailbone and mid-calfs to this device.

This morning offers that cold purple hue low in the west, through which the 7:42 WestJet descends. I sneeze when I wobble, jerk when I cough. Otherwise, not much moves but the Loraas Disposal truck, picking up dumpsters while traffic is quiet. Somebody shows up for work at the TraveLodge.

By the time I work through this box of Kleenex, it will be time to pulley free. For now, I'm one thick layer of frost, I'll tell you.

Cast

This afternoon I shoved my ballot in the box. And what an ugly box it is. Perhaps that's why I take such care with how I dress on election day. It's certainly not a day to wear black, not that I wear much black anymore. It no longer works. Looks like hell against my aging skin. No, today called for something much softer. Today I chose my favourite jeans and my favourite jean jacket with my favourite sweater underneath. Around my neck was my favourite scarf and on my feet my favourite shoes. As I stood behind the line, waiting to make my X, I felt pretty good about the way things look. I still do.

Pure speed

I try to keep a light crust between the sidewalk and the bottom of my running shoes. Doesn't always work. Running through the underpass I heard travel mugs drag at my feet. Next bridge I came to a train standing still, no word from the locomotive. After a minute and half of pure hell, I pulled ahead of the train for good. Rusoda, cherry, black ash--a tree garden fell away as I sped past, the train labouring just to keep me in sight.

I caught the train again on the way back. Even facing the other direction, it was no match for my smouldering shoes, which cast a wake of black rubber necklace. I got all the way here; the train has barely budged.

Light and flaky

It snowed today. Melted as soon as it hit. Like the cinnamon-apple scone I just ate. It hit my tongue and it was done. H made the scones yesterday. I don't understand how such strong hands can make something so delicate. It makes no sense. I keep eating them. Keep asking for them. Just trying to figure it out, I say. And it's true. Each bite melts in my mouth. And as it melts, I take comfort in that buttery cliché.

I don't need to worry

So I opened the window, sensed a flyway. Twitter of leaves where the gull flies. Apples with larger mouths than mine.

I'm one giant bottle of fine, fresh air like this. I'm a breeze past your shoulder.

That view in the window is me switching leaves, falling at the rate of thirty per unit of sidewalk.

Spellbound

I spent the entire day inside, watching it rain. Just watching. Watch is just one vowel away from witch, I said to the cat at one point. But then I said the words aloud again and again - watch witch watch witch watch witch - and realized, shortly after the cat turned her ears back and started giving me that you're-off-your-rocker look, just how wrong I was. Still, I kept watching. Grey rain. Grey sky. Yellow leaves falling. Letting go. Being released. Given the means to descend. And so brightly.