it started innocently enough ....
and I had been working since the sun broke thru the wisteria
on the west side
amongst the brick
and dreams
editing ... eyes on words
soaring with the story
transfixed
( don't tell Marta this happened ...)
( Ooh wait 'til you read her story !! )
soaked & steeped
a margarita called ...
just one
at five o'clock
all good ...
it happened outside ... in the afternoon-cooled-green-yard
the first time I spilled on the pages
first time
and
I found myself noting the spill with a turquoise bubble
and
explanation
'opps ... margarita :-) '
and I believe myself
hilarious & bullet-proof
or
100 proof ?
see ?
hilarious.
does your author need to know this ?
should it be more of
a
don't ask
don't tell
or
what happens while editing stays in vegas sorta thing?
or tulsa, or boulder ....
where was I ?? oh, yeah ...
I knew when I could not spell evoke
well . .
I had turned a corner so-to-speak
3 margaritas deep ....
I began hearing my own story
feeling my blood tumble & roar
dangerous
behind the pencil
3 margaritas deep ...
ssshhhhh ....
don't tell Marta .
