No Piss

We arrived in Iowa City over a year ago, subleased a small apartment, then moved into this duplex, now empty of all our traces. "Time passes and pisses on us all," a famous writer once said to another famous writer - I can't remember which. And by "us," he meant all of us, everything. But, though I like to parrot, I think maybe I'll stop quoting this unknown author - because maybe to say "piss" is to miss...the point....and the opportunity - to grieve, to breathe, to just sit and be with the changes, or to say something like, "the skies are clearing." Even as I type this, a kid in jeans rolls past my window, riding a unicycle, yakking on his cellphone. And Eleanor, she's growing fast. I'm looking a little haggard these days, though, what with all my balancing acts. Ha-ha! My Janelle, though, is an arhat of teapots, beating the spectres outta the reeds. And there is always jazz on. Things, all in all, are good. Oh yeah - and the skies are clearing.