Sandy

someone in the building, while i was walking up the stairs to my apartment, was, in a sandy tenor, singing a song, the coda of which i vaguely remember from a show i watched years ago with my then boyfriend. funny how the little things in one’s day, those that hardly matter, are the ones that really get you. you suddenly remember this man-boy, this mythical being, once a titanic, hulking figure in your life, but this time shape-shifted to a middling memory.  once, i went to this rock concert and i thought then that was the most transformative thing i’ve ever committed myself to in my life. yesterday, in connecticut, i saw a flock of geese flying above us as we drove along 1-91. the flock was so undisciplined, their formation so in disarray, and this comforted me in a strange way.