I spent my train ride into work this morning reading a collection of poems - Nine Horses by Billy Collins. I’ve already mentioned the fact that he is the author of my favorite poem… “Marginalia”… and I just keep finding gems in his writing.

The poem that made me smile this morning is called, “Litany” which is contained in the aforementioned collection, “Nine Horses.”

Litany
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine…
-Jacques CrickillonYou are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and—somehow—the wine.

There are others, but I don’t want to re-type his entire book. That would be wrong.

After work, I stopped at McDonald’s because I was craving Chicken McNuggets like a madwoman. Since dinner’s been Frosted Mini Wheats all week, I figured it was OK to indulge in some crap. I went to the drive-through and there was a family in front of me ordering some Happy Meals for their kids. The employee working the drive-through asked the father ordering the meals whether they were for boys or girls. He said, “two girls.”

Of course, having taken some gender studies courses in college, the societal implications of that question started filtering through my mind, but they were far enough out of reach that I didn’t start railing against society and the fact that there are still gender-appropriate toys for respective Happy Meals.

Instead, I wondered, “Should I order a Happy Meal and then when they ask me if it’s for a girl or a boy, should I say, ‘both’?” They’d be thinking I wanted two Happy Meals and I’d say, “No. Just one. My child is both a boy and a girl.”

I’d insist upon a hermaphrodite Happy Meal and see how they dealt with that sitation.

But I didn’t. I got my McNuggets and a unsweetened iced tea and drove off into the sunset. Or, rather, away from it since I was heading east and the sun sets in the west.

Another little story: I have a cool ring that I wear sometimes that’s very sparkly and looks sort of like some antique engagement ring. It cost me a total of $15, and is just silver and cubic zirconium. Here’s what it looks like:

A co-worker came by my desk and stopped in the middle of talking to say, “Wait - is there something I should know? Have you gotten engaged?”

I spat out a (truly amused) laugh and then pointed out that it was on my right hand and then that I’d need to have a significant other to get engaged. Then I mentioned that, for now, it was a prototype of the “nobody loves me like me” ring. When I mentioned it again, I slipped and said, “nobody loves me but me.” Oops. Freudian?

Then I was thinking about how long it will take before the “nobody loves me like me” actually turns into “nobody loves me but me” ring and then into “nobody loves me” ring I plan on getting for myself at some point. Bad thought progression. And then to chase that thought out my head, I made up a stupid little rhyme (in my head):

A ring, a ring, a silly thing you place upon your hand.
You wear it there and everywhere—they know you got your man.

It’s kind of catchy, actually.

Someone’s making fish. The smell of frying fish just floated up here. I’d light a scented candle, but then it’s just going to smell like frying trout AND Henri Bendel Fig candle. If I burn some incense, it might mask it more effectively.

Also - I’ve posted up some photos on a new gallery feature. I’ll be throwing a link onto the homepage this weekend.

Latezzz.

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