avocado salad in the morning.

The windows are still steamed from the downpour earlier, my nails are pie-in-the-sky blue, and there are three ripe avocados sitting in the kitchen downstairs for lunch. Heavy magazines with glossy spreads, who's pages I can't read, and chance encounters in the bookstore to exchange stories about Jedi and camera angles. The sun is peeking back out, and the leaves on the trees above our house are sparkling green. I'm playing four universal chords on the ukulele, over and over again. C, G, F, Am....