The second in a series of collaborations between Elizabeth Crisman and I have are up at Pair-Shaped Journal. Here is Elizabeth's
photo, and my response:
Definitely not husband. He speaks, an unremitting monologue to which I respond in monosyllable. I hold the poems of Anne Sexton open on my lap. If I read, if I pretend to read, it does not matter. He will repeat aloud amusing signs, the mileage left to San Francisco, to Sausalito, to Petaluma, to Santa Rosa. He will muse about dinner, three hours away, where we will stay, at least five. Should we drive the whole night through?
No man is an island. He is a peninsula and a small package of value.
To read the entire story, go
here.
