Indeed, Lutheran

I went down to see B at his new place, I knew he was finishing the back porch, an entire reconstruction, and that digging out the grader ditch was the next order of business. We agreed to meet at 8 tomorrow morning and work for a couple of hours. Thus we display our madness, two old guys with shovels, laboring against the forces of drainage. In their dotage, let it be noted, they were still digging ditches. B was in good form, the back porch (the main entry) was nearly done and looked elegant. The Vireos were singing in the trees, the Monarch butterflies were actually getting in the way, one landed on my hand, delicately licking salt. We should have such problems, flinging off butterflies while we turn the compost. Back on the ridge, I read some pages, then added or deleted some commas; mostly what I do now is add or delete commas. I think of them as fox tails, whisking one way and then the other. In the story of my life, commas are a characters; interesting, that you don't have to explain much. Meaning, such as it is, is supplied. If I had a TV right now, I'd be watching soccer six hours a day and I might refer to the footwork. Those guys are good and they know how to take a fall.

Fireflies
weaving in late
summer light.

She's singing directly upstage, back to the audience, there's a percussive interlude. Lentils falling on cymbals, they're flatter, and they linger longer. Dried peas don't work at all, too round, too bouncy on a hard metal surface. So it's lentils by default, they fit the bill, in terms of shape. Flattish on two sides. Much later, someone says I couldn't have been there, that I was actually somewhere else. I don't think it matters. Just the idea is enough. I could have been there.