Summer 2013: Day 8

Whit Honea

My boys are playing Minecraft while wearing nothing but fedoras and underpants. I accidentally poured orange juice into my still hot coffee, and I drank it because I’m too cheap not to. The creek is dry and shows no sign of rising.

The morning is all around us and it is either an open invitation or crushing from every angle. I’ve heard it both ways. The birds on the lawn sing for nobody, and they make sure we all can hear it.

I saw another picture of myself and there was shine where hair should be. I didn’t like it. I shaved what I had with a dull machine and the sink filled with shrinking patchwork. Today is the most hair I will ever have again.

Bite me, Science, and the horse you rode in on.

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