Cloudy and cool in the morning, warming in the afternoon.

On this date, all things tangible will move in that same order. Going from sheltered and quiet to short sleeved; chrome edges that are squinted eyes bright. A series of responsibilities will stay on the kitchen table where they will be both safe and ignored. Two notebooks, a cell phone and my watch. There is a corner hot dog vendor who does not take reservations. There are several park benches that will be free after 1pm, when regular people will go back inside dutifully. The rest of the day is wide open. The sky, blue except for cartoon size clouds, is in fact the limit. Some phrases are more apt than others.

We will go to the park with a blanket, Styrofoam cups from the Dog place and the hopes of finding free music. Is any music public? Are there any CD players that are generous enough to share with a radius larger than one? If we find some, we will pitch tent there. Pass some time and maybe some static electricity. The price of low humidity and fingertips too curious for acceptable public manners.

Walking home we will tie sweaters around our waists and shop for furniture we do not need (a fold out couch bigger than our den) and a flat screen we cannot afford (maybe if we sell blood- every week?). We will wink to ourselves, co conspirators. Nobody will know that we are playing hooky from adulthood and our hall passes are expired. How could they know?

We share an ice cream sandwich and she gets to eat the chocolate part that sticks to the wax paper. It will cling to her upper lip and teeth, but only for a childlike moment. She is too mature to stick out a black tongue and show passersby her half eaten, wholly enjoyed dessert. Probably.

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