I'm on the square tonight, in Bloomington. At the Scholar's Inn Bakehouse. There are so many beautiful things I've seen. Here are some of them:
Flowers cascading from window boxes. People who dare to wear empire wasted rompers in broad day light. Tan lines. Those chairs for lawn sitting that fold up and fit into a tiny acrylic spun carrying case that easily slings over your shoulder. Bright orange plastic sunglasses. Two braids on either side of you head, tied together in the back. An apprehensive wedgie pick. Evergreens in the summer. White jeans. Loose skin that promises wisdom. George Winston at the piano. A little something in a BabyBjörn. An odd couple. Cigar smoke. Police flashers. Teenage years. A beautiful red head in pink. Straight teeth. Perfectly crooked ones. Memories of elementary school. Local coffee bars. A senior citizen man with great hair. Biking down a hill. Camo. A woman who feels pretty. Young unwrinkled skin in light cream. Tree lined streets. An eyesore. Enough traffic to give you a moment to think thoughts. Saving someone’s life. An outfit. Awnings. Naturally curly hair. Aviators. Spit that’s perfectly spat. Young love. And old. Hearing aids. A Corsica that still runs! Asian eyes. Knee highs. Knee length. Not too sunburned skin. Adult parents. Bottle blonde hair. A car singer, wailing her guts out. Background chatter over a Beatles soundtrack. New rims. Veiny hands. A tailored skirt on a chubby girl. Napkins. Yellow. Someone that reminds you of an old friend. Mexican skin. Up-dos. A handshake. Counterfeit confidence. The large brass handles of theatre doors. A 90 year old with a cigarette in their craw. Iced coffee. Shadows you can’t figure out where they're coming from. Competing jewelry stores. Cut offs. The rush of wind through the window of your car on a left hand turn. Non-begging toddlers. Deep, true African skin. And gold lamé.
There you have it. The world is good! Good I tell ya!!!
Flowers cascading from window boxes. People who dare to wear empire wasted rompers in broad day light. Tan lines. Those chairs for lawn sitting that fold up and fit into a tiny acrylic spun carrying case that easily slings over your shoulder. Bright orange plastic sunglasses. Two braids on either side of you head, tied together in the back. An apprehensive wedgie pick. Evergreens in the summer. White jeans. Loose skin that promises wisdom. George Winston at the piano. A little something in a BabyBjörn. An odd couple. Cigar smoke. Police flashers. Teenage years. A beautiful red head in pink. Straight teeth. Perfectly crooked ones. Memories of elementary school. Local coffee bars. A senior citizen man with great hair. Biking down a hill. Camo. A woman who feels pretty. Young unwrinkled skin in light cream. Tree lined streets. An eyesore. Enough traffic to give you a moment to think thoughts. Saving someone’s life. An outfit. Awnings. Naturally curly hair. Aviators. Spit that’s perfectly spat. Young love. And old. Hearing aids. A Corsica that still runs! Asian eyes. Knee highs. Knee length. Not too sunburned skin. Adult parents. Bottle blonde hair. A car singer, wailing her guts out. Background chatter over a Beatles soundtrack. New rims. Veiny hands. A tailored skirt on a chubby girl. Napkins. Yellow. Someone that reminds you of an old friend. Mexican skin. Up-dos. A handshake. Counterfeit confidence. The large brass handles of theatre doors. A 90 year old with a cigarette in their craw. Iced coffee. Shadows you can’t figure out where they're coming from. Competing jewelry stores. Cut offs. The rush of wind through the window of your car on a left hand turn. Non-begging toddlers. Deep, true African skin. And gold lamé.
There you have it. The world is good! Good I tell ya!!!
