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Lazy Sunday

Went to lunch with Millie, remembered why I *don't* miss being a uniform. And then I came home and had to try to cook. Well, there is no try, only do, despite Bastard's intervention.

I slept all day yesterday. Had a weird dream about Caro calling. And really thought about what to write in the new book Millie gave me.

Deakins is still out...all right. I'm sure Scooby and Shaggy down in the vid tech room are making the most of it...

Anyhow, Millie passed right out, and I puttered about here. which I like doing actually. I thought about the whole dancing thing, and I'm not sure how to put it all down so people understand...but as always, there is someone who already has, like we share the same experiences.

My Papa's Waltz

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 20th, 2006 04:16 am (UTC)
That was no dream, Logan.
Feb. 20th, 2006 04:47 am (UTC)
Really? Oh, all right then.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )