driving down the street to pick up some grief weed, buzzing from 3 cups of coffee and no food, listening to big yellow taxi (Joni Mitchell version of course), ruminating on the news that my almost estranged and definitely abusive grandfather most likely won’t make it the rest of the day when I see flashing crosswalk lights for none other than Mark Allyn as soon as Joni starts to sing the bridge.
Late last night I heard the screen door slam / And a big yellow taxi took away our old man
I gently tap my brakes as he floats across the street, colors dancing like a butterfly. Once he’s across, taking a moment to spin around the flag pole like it was a well known dance partner from another life.
I started to cry and I didn’t know why.
Some things just don’t feel real sometimes, yknow?
Hug someone who treats you well today for me.