This path, this path I'm walking on?
It takes me to the market, that's what it does, despite the ticklish elevation. But thankfully, I’ve got these headphones pumping out deep, soulful house. I loves to boogie. So I walk up that hill, sliding, gliding, don't matter how steep it is. Been doing the plank, you know, flexing that core. The work—it gets me where I gots to go. Sure enough though, $40 dollars, it’s what I have in my pocket. And I’m proud of that. Pushed around some snow last week. So yeah. I know I need a lemon. I'll figure out the rest after I make me a complimentary cup of coffee at the customer service desk, with the raw sugar and the oat milk—so generous, but also, holy hell; check your rear-view, mind your side mirrors, because you just might get an elbow in the rib if you’re not swizzle-sticking fast enough. So I wait in the wings and observe, entertained by the ballet of self determination and civility, which is also the perfect time to review my shopping list. You see, I consider myself a connoisseur of sorts: pine nuts, sun dried tomatoes. Little delicacies, you know? I enjoy cooking meals for my neighbors. They like giving me herbs. I bought a righteous bag of Nicaraguan dark roast last week after a recent windfall from a timely side hustle. It’s curious though, because, on that very same day, I was helping a dear friend move out of their cubbyhole because the roof started to collapse after twelve nights of torrential cats and dogs. My beautiful comrade, so compassionate, just trying to make ends meet. Anyways, it’s a super happy ending—because now we're shacking up! Or better yet, stacking up the magic brownies and the midnight honeymoons. But enough about love:
⌘