Postcard of the Day

( Will you find time to quit laughing? )

 

The title of this poem is too long for an lj subject line.

 I Accidentally Went to See The Spy Who Dumped Me a Week After I'd Already Seen It
       and Didn't Realize I Had 'til the Bread Rings in the Market in the Opening Scene

It's not because it's forgettable, the film.  It's better than people say.  Laugh-out-loud jokes.
A short slow car chase.  Pussy Riot singing us out: God is a woman and she's deaf and she's queer.

It's probably not cuz I'm gonna die soon, tho it right off called up how my mother forgot that thing
with ice cream in the night and was dead within a year, and it took me a few scenes to decide
this was probably different from that, and I say it here too, to make it even less likely, in case that works.

I'd bet it's because I didn't talk about it, the film, or write about it, and lock it in by connecting about it to
another human being.  And it maybe is cuz I've been rotting my brain this week with the "Big Brother"

and free trial feeds, of which I'm not ashamed on accounta fuck that, but it could be rotting my brain.

If it is that I'm dying, and also if not, I'm glad that I made it to the good wool socks, the Jeep
that unlocks when it's me walking up and starts with the push of a button, patterns on duct tape,
"Crazy Ex-Girlfriend", mangoes & warm sticky rice, Lula the dog, more than once feeling loved,
the CPAP machine, fidgety spinners, a total eclipse, and Kate Freakin' Marvelous Kathryn McKinnon.