woke up Sunday morning and put the same shorts back on…made my way downstairs and opened the blinds to a chai tea and some photos and some words on trust…haven’t had a dream in a long time or found the words to say…
is holding on while you are letting go
Somewhere in the backseat between my mom’s open window and her cigarettes and the dust of gravel roads heading south to Riverside or anywhere but home I heard Kris Kristofferson and Sunday Morning Coming Down.
I was too young to know what that song meant but I did because my sister did. The images linger in my mind like the faded Polaroid Kodachrome corners of all the things we shouldn’t say.
‘Tell them it was an accident…’, she said, and she meant it.
Jackson Pollock said, ‘I defy the accident.’
Paint falls from the heavens from the wings of broken angels on Sunday mornings.