I look at thirty pages of recipes

because I want to choose the right one 

to use up the box of root vegetables 

sitting in my kitchen.  It snows hard 

for an hour & then melts fast.

I’m always slower these days 

because I keep thinking things.

Those heavy clusters of snow so beautiful 

in the air & then so gone.  I get disappointed

when I can’t find what I’m looking for

in my shallow dresser drawer

or the boxes in the mud room.

I think of the book I’m reading 	

about a barbarian who is trying to save 

some wizards from being assassinated.
 
I know a lot of facts		a lot of people too

but it all feels like accidental knowledge.

I find myself caring about what happens to the barbarian

even though the writing is pretty simple

& sort of bad.  His only friend is his sword.
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