this is me pretending it is raining. with me in my work clothes.
work is stress: because the clinic's financial situation is suddenly dire. because there is talk of cutting everyone's hours. because if we cannot stay afloat we may have to close, almost thirty years in.
& in that case, i don't know what i would do. try to get a job at another clinic. or swallow the truth of the situation & join the catholic workers or the jesuit volunteer corps. or hide in my room.
then again maybe this is what they have been praying for, for thirty years. kneeling in the alley, past the parking lot.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:today at the organic farmer's market outside of dragonfly, three very chic gorgeous children were drinking cherry 7-up & eating combos while their parents asked questions about the aduki beans & the corn.
when i paid for the garlic, i got all my change back in gold sacagawea dollars. they make a very satisfying, heavy sound in my wallet. i kind of feel like a pirate, with that weight.
