It is snowing. Looking out the window- I sit in my room waiting (no car, unmotivated [city on COVID lockdown], oh well). The snow looks like Dippin Dots. It rests on our balcony. My wife went out, came back in; now cotton candy-like fluff all over. Only water. I wish I had my car but I really don't have anywhere I want to go. My eyes drift to the yellowing leaves, intermixed with fading greens. The ivy, by contrast, is going red. I want my car. I have nowhere to go. Without it, I feel stranded in the middle of a desert.
1. "This here...is Egg City" 2. "Who am I? Okay, sure, I'm an egg" 3. "But not just any egg" 4. "I'm a BAD EGG. Rotten to the CORE" 5. "I got a feverish desire for FAME" 6. "But lately...I been crackin' up" 7. "My head is all scrambled" 8. "So I'm gettin' outta' here... Leavin' Egg City for good!"
GAZING AT THE CREEK from above the trees spiral— the surface, daguerreotypic reflection. Stratospheric strands falling on the water; a breeze blows past the sphinxlike supports of a low-water bridge.
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