241/365

woke up without an alarm,
the air thick with threats of a storm,
gave my mother some advice
that felt relevant and adult and needed,
wondered if my own kids will some day
guide me through ambiguous stages.
followed up on helping a friend’s friend,
an afghani refugee stranded in a warehouse
outside the airport in tehran, concussed and paranoid,
wondering if he accepted the call that might get him out.
locked into in a book about the attica prison riot of 1971
and fiddled with the opening dropped d intro of drown.
fought the nap energy seeping into the room
by going for a short run in the rain, no music
but the splat of the puddles and drops from the trees.
made a grapefruit cocktail in a coupe glass
and read how the word julep is rooted the persian word golab
which means rose water and that margarita is daisy in spanish.
excited to embark on these cocktail seminars.
dinner. tv. bed.
another sunday
in the books.