"Women my age are not as young as I am."
This morning it's autumn and drizzling. Chill as a crisper drawer. I can hear a field cricket stuck under the throw rug (hand-knotted by the criminally insane in Stanton, Virginia)calling. Thighs gleaming and clicking glossy as black eyes - all dressed up and trapped in my family room.
He sounds like ghostly Morse code from lost explorers, or the buzzer for summoning the nurse. But the connection's loose and she won't come. Buzz...zzz...god where's the nurse?...buzzz...
Good god. It just makes you want to fish him out from under there and tell him "Oh give over, mate." and fling him in a gentle arc out into wet poke, the smashed fescue, and the last of the clammy and slug-bitten tomatoes calling, "Cheer up! Go find a girl." Which brings me full circle, I guess. Go for a run. Have an apple. Don't panic. It's autumn.
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