Jacque's Toast

branches, sticks and twigs sneaking back staying silent- hiding in the curtains, becoming angry when the sun does not shine. Burst; color dazzling screaming, spilling everywhere leaking from the ceiling oh mama will cry oh mama don't cry I will sing you a lullaby of leaves, leaves that once glittered so.

My basement is flooded with inches of standing water, and drips come steadily from the ceiling, blobbing the fresh paint job and soaking into the new carpet, making my socks wet. But as the winds come swinging through the trees, scattering drops on my window, the drips of rain create a beautiful water color painting.

I left work around 7:15 PM. It was warm outside still, and I knew that more often than not in the coming days, weeks, months it would be cold outside when I left work. Gene wasn’t around and didn’t need a ride home, and I had yet to see downtown Rochester, walk the East Avenue I keep hearing about. I searched for some bookshops because I have read all my books. One caught my eye because someone named Aryeh C. left a review for it. North Star Books. Named for the abolitionist paper or something. I got to town and parked on Elm Street, across from the book shop. I didn’t even go to the door of it because I figured it was closed, and I decided to walk along East Ave. Passing different bars and food options, stopped for a slice of pizza. Took it to go and ate it while looking at the movie listings at Rochester’s Independent movie theater called the Little Theater. It was playing some mystery drama film, and Don’t Think Twice - which I had already seen with my mother. I thought about hangin...