This morning began like anyone's:
coffee. Mine a bitter roast
too weak for the daytime
that keeps me up half the night.
When I got where there was
no point really in going,
I had to hold every hand
but the one.
After negatives against
a backlight of Before.
I feel I am missing
the correct chemical.
Back home, I liven things up
by microwaving popcorn:
an edible jazz I feed to the trash
for our walk to the curb.
At the end of the day, one shadow
seems made of a deeper gray:
have I somehow earned this
by refusing for years to fear it?
Here at last my martini
embalming its hollowed olive,
and, as apparently originally intended,
salt for my salary, sighs for my meat.
TODAY IN SLATE
I was hit by a teacher in an East Texas public school. It taught me nothing.
Republicans Like Scott Walker Are Building Campaigns Around Problems That Don’t Exist
Why Greenland’s “Dark Snow” Should Worry You
If You’re Outraged by the NFL, Follow This Satirical Blowhard on Twitter
The Best Way to Organize Your Fridge
Iran and the U.S. Are Allies
They’re just not ready to admit it yet.
Giving Up on Goodell
How the NFL lost the trust of its most loyal reporters.