Another day dawns in the Chaotic States of America. Over Casco Bay a thin bank of clouds hovers at the horizon's edge--Confederate grey tinged with rose. A power plant's smokestack is a pale silhouette against those shifting hues. Someone's escaped balloon trembles toward the east. The surface of the sea, shot with silver, ripples, shifts.
This morning I will meet a friend for breakfast and then come back to the doll-house to read and write. It is a day I've been anticipating--a breath between editing jobs. Later I'll walk to the library. Later I'll face the news. Later I'll take a deep breath and start agitating again. My outrage is outpacing my shyness. Shortly it will outpace my good manners. Who knows what good it does? All I know is that doing nothing doesn't give us a chance.