how often at night
in my city,
the wind pulled the colour from the trees and the big downtown art gallery stayed open all night.
there were bands playing on the rooftop and dancers dancing on the sidewalk and wine in plastic cups and strangers dressed in costume. we were introduced to an artist who we both immediately fell for. his paintings of our prairie home stirred in us something close to pride: he painted the sometimes threatening amount of skyspace and landspace and openspace in a way that although exaggerated its beauty, also admitted the plainness and the melancholy. the titles of his pieces ["how often at night" and "big lonely"] have stuck in my head.
this post//this dance//this lunch//dessert tree//this photo