The Democratic National Convention has come to town. There's festive bunting on the tracks where my light rail used to run last week. There's all manner of t-shirt hawkers outside my new, temporary bus stop and on every bit of open inch on the way to the other light rail. There are many flocks of cops standing about.
Yet none of this helps the fact that I left my cell phone on the light rail on Monday. I've been pretty pissed at myself and at the world at large. For I am a bit anal about such things and there is a yellow note TAPED TO MY CELL PHONE that says "If lost, please call Erin at..." I am smart enough not to have put my cell phone number at the end of that sentence. Yet, no one calls.
In addition to the fun of hissing at people trying to hand me flyers (for and against the various things going on in Denver), I notice that many people together always smell like poo. I don't know why this is, but it's a fact. I suspect there is a certain number of people you need to collect together in one place for the poo factor to kick in. I'm thinking it's maybe about 217 people. Roughly.
All I know is that Denver smells like poo and in spite of all the flocks of cops around, my little cell phone is all alone in the world, riding the rails if you will. How in the hell am I going to tell time now?
An Erinku:
red leaf
ah, so soon
gold leaf
too
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