When I woke up that morning to answer the door
I found post-it notes in my winter jacket that I had left myself
the year before, telling me things like “make lemonade” or “go swimming”.
It was one of those surprises that held frozen effects throughout the day.
At the door,
little girls stood behind my screen door
holding out yellow handbills
to their grand opening lemonade sale
next year, their parents acting murdered in the van
parked in some brush of leaves
on the other side of the street.
I let the situation form my day
the way all first events form all days.
Like when God proposed ‘days’
to be seven repeating,
or when he made the sea
3/4 our existence.
