Archive
08/23/10 - (1)
Today
"Is today the twenty-fourth?" I ask my waitress. "No, that's tomorrow," she says, through a Monday-morning yawn. "That's what I get when I don't read a paper — Don't know where I am or when or who. And truth be told, I don't really give a damn."
"Me neither," she adds to our nonconversation. "It don't matter what you call 'em, What date you give 'em; They just come and go like a plague of locusts, Roll over and die like possums in the middle of the road."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," I mumble, Unwilling, I suppose, to leave well enough completely alone. "One day's just like another — work's circle jerk." "Now, ain't that the truth?" "Did you say today's tomorrow? Then what's yesterday? Today?"
08/23/10 - (1)
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