Non sequiturs

The vacuum cleaner is covered with a layer of grime.

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I carry my empty coffee cup into the kitchen & set it on the counter beside the baby bottles.

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Halfway through my walk, it hits me: Last night, I was dreaming about witches.

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The censor of music wears black turtleneck shirts & fancies himself a decomposer.

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Insomnia is like instant water – add water & serve.

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I pause in my cleaning to admire the beebalm: scarlet dust mops.

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Out for an early walk, the rising sun warms my back even as the nighttime coolness still seeps between the buttons of my shirt.

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I write a note to myself, cross it out & put it in my pocket.

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Everyone assumes the fry cook likes to cook, but the truth is, she likes to feed people.

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How long until the baby begins to suspect that the world has other flavors besides formula?

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I have a feeling I could make a lot out of the fact that the scarlet tanager’s song is so hoarse & formless.

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I always pause after punching down the dough to admire the imprint of my knuckles on what will soon be bread.

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Panther amanita or green bolete, a chipmunk has nibbled most of the color off.

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At three years of age, the asshole’s son is already well on his way to becoming an asshole.

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Anything with a head of snakes gets compared to Medusa – how tiresome.

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Is it really just a deerfly that keeps nuzzling the back of my neck?

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I wonder what the turtles are up to right now?