went for a walk round my neighborhood listening to npr pop culture podcasts and making a point to look and smile at whomever i passed instead of looking down or at the trees or pretending to see something over there. i walked for an hour and by the time i was done it was 11:50 and at 1 i was supposed to be at m's so i readied myself by showering and dressing in a crisp brown cotton jumper dress and drove over. and m in his t shirt a perfect blue and m in his smile and m in his beard and m and m and m.

round 1:30 we went to the art museum, the three of us, m, charlie, and i, to see the masterpieces of american photography exhibit. dorothea langes and steiglitz and an angela davis wanted poster and mostly the war photos and mostly the korean war photos and wondered what it must've been like for pa and what he must've seen and what they're seeing now over there in a new war with new soldiers and new faces crying with new eyes pleading just wanna go home, can see it in their eyes wanting to curl up in their mama's lap or their girl loves and wanting to just make it stop, just young baby boys and inside i felt my heart ache a little and i wanted to sit in the corner and cry some, for just a little while, and in front of another photo i told m we should picket army recruiting stations or not so much picket as sit peacefully with signs saying stop sending our children to war or so but i dont think he was up for it and so i thought of slaughterhouse five and how he named it the children's crusade and the wife in the kitchen saying you were just babies then and all of it.

but really it wasn't all of this so somber, i was just thinking quietly inside a little and feeling an ache a little, and wanting to do something a little, but mostly i was moving on to the next photo, a portrait of stravinsky by chuck close or an old woman smiling in a garden with her prize squash and then you start to forget again, a little.