The Runcible Blog

I know nothing of love that blossoms in Autumn, with Nature-defying ease. It grows through bold innocence, unaware of the time or the timing or the timers. It reaches and sprouts, draws warmth from the tundra, and thrives. Who can smell the petals as the roots flourish underground? While I long for this unknown wonder, it whispers from the dirt, "be patient" this one's more recent, relevant, and romantic (to me, anyway)...
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I walk to the store. toilet paper, spaghetti o's, paper towels, a rice noodle bowl. I walk home on street-lit cobblestones while the bag rustles, still, my keys echo in October air breathing faster – a plane overhead The oil in my bowl like drops of blood is not a placid heart that floats on salted water. Somewhere a girl slowly kills herself. sitting in my chair, I sip the noodles. nose runs, eyes drip from the steam...
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