“where lovers called themselves lovers”

Sorry for the delay -- TinyLetter trapped this in the ether for a couple days. They sent it back to my drafts, so I am trying again now.

The Poem

The Good in the Evil World - Rebecca Hazelton

Before the war leaned in and blew out
the candles, there were many long days
where lovers called themselves lovers
and a house was a dream but also
four walls, a roof. A father called
to his daughter to see the monarch butterflies,
pausing in their migration to fan the goldenrod,
a tiger in each coy disclosure.
A young man reached for a blackberry
and found draped on a branch a green snake
the color of matcha. A snake the color of matcha
sighed in the sun. People drove in cars.
There were jobs and someone had to work
every morning. A man quit his job
but it was no tragedy. He didn’t like the work.
Another man slid in and found it comfortable
enough, and just as easily slid in beside
the man’s wife and into the everyday rhythms
of his life and that was no tragedy either.
After rains, a ring of mushrooms would delicately
crack the earth. Spanish moss harbored red mites.
The sky wasn’t interesting. No one looked up.

The Beverage
This Very Specific Juice I Had Today [Sunday]

I purchased a very good juice from a very funny juice bar here in Madison that has a lot of very large crystals and displays of crystals in it. They also grow microgreens using sacred geometry. So… there’s that. BUT they make REALLY good juices. Mine today [two days ago] was orange, carrot, pineapple, lemon, ginger, and turmeric. It was so so so so so so good. I want to have it every morning. I cannot afford that. But I would like to have it anyway. Part of the appeal is that I did not have to make it.

Fancy juice! It’s delightful!