nose in a book, the book giving me chest pains but the same one i insist on reading through the post-appointment blurry eyes of an optometrist’s visit. nose in a book rushing home in the moments before twilight when - eyes to the sky for a moment and i cannot help but stop. layers of clouds, dimensional so like the trompe l’oeil of renaissance ceiling paintings - gray storm clouds over pale blue sky underneath, so perfect in perspective i can almost see the ring of angels peering down from the fluff. “low battery” flashing on my camera phone and so no means to capture it - besides this.. what i should have reached for before the gadget - pen and folded paper, crouched against the fence of my high school football field, pressing hard against madame didion’s “year of magical thinking.” in my own memories of the emergency room, of the great divide, of loss, and change, and goodbyes - i did not want to bear another moment to pass in which “i had not sufficiently appreciated it.” 5.29.12