Saturday, as I posed a wedding couple on a V-Rod Harley in the midst the of rose garden of the Middling City's Delaware Park (okay by the cop on the watch as he loves - and who really in love with a uniform, the power of firearms and the whirr of power in one's ears does not - a great fucking powerful machine), heard a familiar voice from the east, from the midst of the pink roses in the dusk. Mary Ramsey, my heartmate, soul revivor, of John and Mary fame, of one-time 10K Maniacs fame. I was at wedding B. She was at wedding A in the same dang building. As we were both en route to our respective social obligs we had a speed meeting/talk. Interestingly, just as effective.
Off to document the exhibition of Parsons Dream Weaver Mistress/Instructor Robin at Middling City Art Studios. Had a dream about it. Can I ever have a night of reverie without them attaching to this other world. I think not.
Just re-read Sam's That Time, aloud, as it should be read.
Perfection.
Love of the Perfect.