Day 606, February 28, 2022

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 The Novel Reads Like a Long Fantastic List 

Today is your lucky day. 
Today is an unlucky day. 
Today is cloudy with a chance of thundershowers. 
Today is your birthday. 
Today is a metaphor for the past two years of your life. 
Today is masquerading as evening and that is why you are tired and hungry. 
Today is full of anticipation. 
Today is a gentle strip tease into tomorrow. 
Today is asking questions about tomorrow’s answers. 
Today is a ham sandwich. 
Today is a nearly expired fruit cup. 
Today smells funny, 
like a dirty pillow. 
Today is cold, 
but not so cold as to be the coldest day, 
but just on this side of tolerable.
Today is a joke about three people with different professions walking into a bar, 
going fishing in a canoe, 
standing in front of a firing squad. 
In the newspaper a school teacher cried as she waited to be sent into the war. 
Today there are videos of what happens when a bomb is dropped on a column of vehicles. 
Today there are men and women acting brave and heroic because there is nothing else left to do. 
Today there is food, gasoline, and electricity. 
Today there are long lines to withdraw rubles. 
Today there are packages arriving with instructions on how to assemble and destroy. 
Today there are helicopters falling out of the sky. 
Today there are warm clothes and it is dry in the deep warrens of trains. 
Today there are bandages applied to boys smoking cigarettes. 
Nobody is laughing at the comedian. 
Today worries about what tomorrow will bring. 
Today is a precursor. 
Today is your last day. 
Today is your first day. 
Today is like that day when we went to get soft serve 
and the mosquitoes were so bad we had to eat in the car. 
Today is like finding a quarter on the ground, shiny and clean.
Today is like the time you said, “You aren’t listening.” 
But I was, and I said, “Yes, I know.”



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