whitneyism
two times two is four. four times four is sixteen. six times six is thirty-six. then, later, eleven times eleven? 121. 20 times 20? 400. and so it goes.
snip. snip. snip. the shuffling of a broom. shaving lather. a red and white spinning pole. football. little boys in for their first haircut with their fathers, some brave, some crying.
"how do you tell if it's ripe?" "hand it here. it's ripe. what else you want for the fruit salad? kiwi, banana, apple, pear?" cut along the plate-like seed, dice the mango up, and throw it in the bowl with the rest.
the celtic cross. first card: what do you have? second card: what are your obstacles? lay the others out in fashion. what's to come? will you be happy? mysteries of the tarot.
limbs entwined, trash from the weekend and our clothes thrown all over the backseat, in the floorboard and the rear window. everything in the car is a tangled mess, organized chaos. it doesn't last long enough.
pink. that's the headphones. white. the ipod's attached. black. is my phone plugged in? everything's tangled, jumbled together in a big mess. you spend five minutes getting the knots out and by that time you forget which you needed...