standing in our front yard at night.  noticing the gray stripes of large snakes taking over the yard. i point them out to a friend and we go inside.
trying to clean up our home.  our relationship has reached a level of dysfunction that is visible to all who walk in.  his kid doesn’t even have a bed, but i notice a frame leaning up against a wall.  somehow i’ve got to find a mattress for her.  i decide to go out.  she tugs on my shirt and i look at her, a calm 7 year old.  she hands me a coin and tells me it’s for her friend.  Nora? I ask.  she nods.  i tell her i will give it to her and i do. Nora (Norma?) is a fish sculpture.  a white ceramic cutout of a fat koi fish sitting in mud where the Coleta hot springs should be out by the forgotten cemetery.  I stick the coin in the earth in front of its gaping mouth.
back in my living room, david bowie is sitting there.  we have to move and we can only choose 10 things to go with us.  but once you choose your things, you play “take, take, give.”  which means you choose two things to keep (take with you) but then have to choose one thing to leave behind (which someone can then snatch up). david bowie is offering signed vinyl editions of Outside B-sides, signed.  my boyfriend thinks this is great because if i keep them it means i’ll have to give up some of my other possessions that he can take for himself. i pass on the records immediately and instead keep useful and sentimental things.  bowie is offended, sitting in an upholstered recliner, but i tell him flatly from where i sit on the carpet that i already have those songs and i’m not taking a record player with me so there’s no point in lugging them around.