window view

window view

Conjunction #1
And in the middle of a meeting I noticed a girl across the hall staring outside the window, and I thought, I know this girl, and I know that look. Less than 5% of all people look like that.

Conjunction #2
And I wanted to get her attention and ask, "What do you call it when you love something and hate that very SAME something at very nearly the exact same time and place?" I don't know what she'd say. I know what I would say, but I'm always a little surprised to find that the people I think should have the very same answers to all the world's questions very often don't.

Occasionally, I find we eat the same things. Okra and Brussels sprouts, for instance. Baby bok choi. Not frappucino. Or that it always seems to rain, even when we visit the driest places.

"What do you call it when you love something but hate it at the same time?"

"Crack."

"You are so my crack."

Conjunction #3
And then I thought, "My organs must be in the wrong place. Parts are missing. Or incomplete. Is it the parts that make the whole? Or is it the other way around? The clothes that make the man?" Or the men that make the clothes?

I don't just mix my metaphors, I very often misplace them. "Is what I'd tell her, if only she'd stop looking out the goddamned window."

Conjunction #4
And the meeting ended, with me staring at a girl who was staring out the window.

Conjunction #5
And outside, a cottonwood seed floated by, very similar to one I just saw, drifting between us in my car at damn near 70 miles per hour, and she reached for it, and it sidestepped, and I reached for it, and felt its hairs tickle my wrist, and she reached for it and I wondered whence the bruises, and I caught it, opened my palm and let it go. It flew out the window, knowing its luck had been spent, no fertile ground in these climes, and if you could ever have understanding with our forested friends, it was this: both the cottonwood and I recognized at that moment the look of the compulsive buyer. Both of us with emotional outlays, too many financial commitments elsewhere and otherwise divided, unable to spend it all in one place. No tree will ever sprout between the two of us.