My brain is functioning like a deck of cards these days, dealing me new images in rapid succession. A sip of coffee, and the deck shuffles once more. With each flip of the deck, a new shape, color, play.
Flip – Ace of spades.
Flip – Jack of diamonds.
Flip – Acorn squash soup with a touch of nutmeg and black pepper.
Flip – Jane Kenyon’s take on melancholy.
Flip – Nine of hearts.
Flip – The day, sometime in my tenth year, I stepped on a nail in our backyard and had to get a tetanus shot.
Flip – That awkward moment, in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner, when I realized that everyone around the table was listening to me.
Flip – Should we put up the tree early this year?
Flip – Two of clubs.
And so it goes, no thread maintained, other than the thread of random thought. My brain is my shopping basket after strolling through a department store: a clutter of extraneous necessities, pumice stone bumping up against cookie sheet, vegetable peeler mixing with bed linens.
Flip – Full house.