“This redbone mishmash has me forgetting the slushy confines of winter in the Twins.
This morning I almost left my coffee behind. I spoke to the Big Boy cup as if she were a woman who missed me and was so so sad that I had almost abandoned her to slowly grow cold on the counter. Antiseptic residue dries up and, later, if I had lifted Big Boy up to take a sip of chilled coffee, a sneaky damp remnant would remain.
And I would feel sad watching it quickly dissipate.
And maybe I’d look to the stalk bent low under purple flowers, take a deep breath through my nose, and wonder how much time those blossoms yet have.”
