fixing to rain i think. all day the sky was an intense blue with sparse fleets of cumulus clouds floating by. walked past the stand where the men carve meat. tacos al pastor. the sheer and color-washed shadows of balloons cast on concrete. white blossom trees and blush blossom trees and cerise. kept thinking petals on a wet black bough. but it was cheerier. i married the thought to carnivals. to a devlin illustration. fondant cakes and inks.
a woman in the store asked sister and me what our ethnicity is. i told her we're mutts. that is the short form of an otherwise tedious explanation. i could very easily have launched into just such an explanation. i was grateful for her phrasing at least. sometimes people just ask what are you? i'm not sure how to respond to that. i'm a humanzee. i'm a lover of well-crafted prose. i'm a decline to state. give me something to go on.
the busdriver asked if i was in high school. i'm not even going to touch that one.
we went for a walk just before dusk. clarkia is up. dark red veins on boat-shaped leaves of green. the light was golden. really fucking beautiful. it had texture. it looked as though i could scoop some up in my hand. and the hills are soooo green. that sort of green that exists nowhere outside of a fleeting california spring. luverly. sulphur-throated forget-me-nots are blooming. so dainty. we walked back at the hour when the clovers clasp their hands and sleep. grey and hirsute clovers. green-gold and wine and white-flecked clovers.