An English In Kentucky


















September 4th 2010    Tim Candler

    The prettiness of the day marred by a dangerous blue sky  and a stubborn breeze.   My God how dull I have become.   My hat kept wandering off and there is nothing worse than the slather of those ointments supposed to offer protection against light from our star.

    There is a little bit on the top of my head, where hair is supposed to be, that I think must have caught the sun.  So soon I will be a blob, shoveled from place to place.

   The wind resistant beaky cap is something I find hard to come to terms with.  It makes me feel birdlike, and at my age concentration is complex enough.  I will wander, catch my shadow and peck the air in a manner that could subject me to scrutiny from mental health professionals.

   But the siding is clean and sparkles so white it blinds the eye. 

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