Silk
Monday, May 1st, 20004:34 PM, Sometimes, I think that the secret sound of leaves opening in Spring is the same as a woman slipping a dress of emerald silk over her bare skin.
Sweat and typing. The rolling hiss of the treadmill. And motion without arrival. I say that I had coffee and Lucky Charms for breakfast today. And it was windy and bright, new-greened trees swaying. Me at the keyboard, typing query letters and emails. Sarah McLachlan on the CD player.
My father and I registered today for Pittsburgh’s Race For The Cure. Last year I said that I would cut a few minutes off of my time, this time. Since the majority of my physical activity for the last month and a half has been confined to thinking about excercising, I think I might back off from that prediction.
If you are in Pittsburgh and are planning on attending the event, stop by and say “Hi”. I’ll be the guy in black, crawling across the finish line.
— JWR, 5/1/00