Up early, downstairs, soup's out again still cold. Me dressed. Abby dressed. Forget shoes and sweaters and keys. Gather quarters and leave.

Walk downtown past the smells. Smells of caramel and bread and coffee and donuts. Past churches and chairs on the sidewalk and large appliances out for pickup. To the cafe. Espresso for me, sesame cookie for Abby. Sicilian talk of soccer and sox.

Out of money. Go home or get more? To the bank then to Two Sisters. Too many dishes at home and the instant decision not to wash them yet, not just yet. Call GL. Breakfast for me and Abby, G and G talking art and crotches. Twice as much as breakfast in the Fort.

Walk home, sometimes raining, just a drop here and there. Spitting, really. Telling Abigail the names of flowers. This is a morning glory, this is a rose. Maybe we'll eat every meal out today and I won't do any dishes. This is hibiscus. Tired of measuring my value in cleanliness. Look at the sunflowers.

Graves of sea captains with ships on them. Ben Pine, Columbia. Ordered yarn last night, super-bulky alpaca. Colors like the sunrise. Seashell pink and thistle down and starlight blue. I may not clean at all today. The sky is openning and I've had toomuch coffee. That won't keep me from drinking more. Abigail making wookie noises and watching break dancing on television. Something's got to give.