Slow Fade

I eat an entire loaf of banana cake, picking it out with my bare hands thinking about that yellow sweater in the window of the shop I pass by every day. Maybe I should buy the yellow sweater, clean out the new drawers decaying with the promise of old things, not eat an entire loaf of banana cake. It’s been three days since the sun came out, today was alright, just a little uneasy on the eyes but I thought of you any way. The creepers on the windows are getting out of hand, I’m going to use the scissors on them without remorse. That’s right, no remorse on clearing out tendrils for a view of the building opposite my house in which my mother’s friend used to live. Her son lives there now with his family of three, one of them a large parrot kind of bird in their window which I see after I’ve cut the creepers. Two days pass, the yellow sweater is still in the window. I stand in front of it now, looking at my reflection in the glass under the sweater. I can never see myself wearing it. I want it. I leave the scissors from the creeper cutting inside the aloe vera pot and I can’t find it for days. I buy a new pair of scissors, more banana loaf, a new maroon door mat, and lots of trash bags. There will be a party, maybe some friends will come over. Who knows? The parrot kind of bird disappears. I regret cutting the creepers so I bring another one. I find the scissors covered in mud and I wash them under the sink, the red soil sliding away under my fingers. The earth is a beautiful thing, I think. I smell the milk boiling over. I am now cleaning the stove, late for a haircut appointment which is just as well. I think I’ll keep my hair long, don’t you think?