Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Us Bank sends an envelope with a view. I see:

Ben Parman
1713 North Marshall Street
Milwaukee, WI 53202-1518

Ben Parman? In Milwawwwkeee? Working at a dating service, wearing North Face zipper-off khakis and various bland long-sleeved collared shirts? What about New York? What about love? What about us?

Stuff it like a turkey. There is nothing better than now. There is the savior’s love, and Billy Collins’ poetry, and http://www.classictvads.com, and Billie Holiday’s “Strange Fruit”, and my parents’ thoughtless sacrifices. These blessings are flight attendants, bending down with perfumed bosoms. I have been taking their pretzels and water without looking up. This morning my face turns, squeaks open with a slow smile, and I receive with the beginning of gratitude.

I am starting to learn how to temporarily forget myself, like wet clothes at the bottom of the washer. Of course occasionally something reminds me and I run screaming to them, cradling their limp drippage into the dryer with mother hen concern. But I do forget for a moment here and there. They are moments worth framing.

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