radiant fracture

Some cold white bird died last night. The sky is all scattered with feathers and bones, and the ground is covered with a heavy down of ice.

Heat yourself at your coffee. I met the best guy over coffee yesterday. I remembered that the Market has Saltspring coffee for a dollar in its vending machine. A real live small pleasure. There's one guy ahead of me, 35ish, baseball cap and vaguely workish clothes.

"Oh, sweet brown giver of life." he says. I grin. He stirs. "My girlfriend calls it my cup of personality."
"I like to think of it as my liquid brain." I say.
"I was visiting my brother," he tells me, "And on my last day we decided to get one more round of golf in. So we're up at five o'clock. His wife's one of those people who can actually function in the morning. She comes downstairs and sees us standing in the kitchen, just kind of slumped against the counter, staring at each other's shoes. 'You haven't said one word to each other, have you?' She says. 'Shh,' says my brother, 'Coffee's brewing.'"

Kilshaw's auction house had a gin jar in the window today. I've never seen one before. It's not unlike a coffee urn.

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