he asks, “do we ever make it to the end of november?”
and i said, no, we do not make these things, they just happen upon us, like bird shit on our sleeve. suddenly and without excuse. and everyone is embarrassed for us and they giggle but do nothing about it. and we do nothing about it but we cannot giggle. what choice do we have but to get our hands dirty and we stand there like the statues we admire in museums but not as pale and certainly not feeling as foolish.