Today, I stopped to watch a black lab run across a patch of grass down the street from my house. The owner stood at one end of the field tossing a tennis ball. The dog fetched. The dog returned. The owner threw. The sun had unexpectedly emerged. It was supposed to be raining.
My most recent crush which momentarily inoculates me against my persistent instinct to define my life as I move through it.
There is a theory that the phrase “to have a crush” is derived from slang referencing spoon-feeding a baby crushed or mashed-up food. Devotion renders me to the inclinations of a child sometimes. A thread strung with beads of endless potentials for an enchantment…The dog is no longer an organism, but rather the moment I learned not to pull an animal’s tail. The owner is on the horizon now, someone tying my shoes for me. The lack of rain reminds me I need to keep better track of people’s birthdays. The objects of my affection begin to eclipse my proclivity for language, so all that is left for me to do is collect and reorganize the clippings of what I witness so that I can resume my play.