050201 #human she's out on the porch talking to one of the old ladies. she laughs a little in sympathy. she inclines her head, nodding, says, "yeah..." in understanding of something. She asks a question. "Where were they yesterday?" The old lady's voice scratches on, like a low phonograph, just a little warped. The sun crowns their heads with dandelion. Dexter, on this side of the windows and the wall, gazes at me from his spot on the couch. The huskies pace, jingle, jingle, pace. Thursday follows Wednesday, Friday is after that, before you know it, the weekend again. Nothing ever changes, or does it. A flightless bird juts upward once more, careens back down to icy earth. I wish we had some beers left.