Friday, August 3, 2012


...It's another sunny day here, sky the color of a baby blue quilt.
So, for some reason, i wrote this...

                                                            Abundant Sunshine

            There was something wrong with the baby.  Sunlight could kill it.  My wife blamed herself, thinking it was payback from all the drugs she took in college.  When I said, “That’s crazy talk,” she reached up and slapped me.

            The baby had my nose already, but her forehead.  It looked like a normal newborn, squished and rashy. 

            Doctors said it was an extremely rare condition.  One said there were ways around it.  Another, “Things could be worse.”

            The baby’s mother and I fought about how to proceed, fought so much that we didn’t seem married anymore.

            And then we weren’t.

            Whenever I visited after that, there were always other women in the house.  They wore old-fashioned capes and matching bonnets, never smiled or spoke.

            My wife thought the child possessed, maybe even a vampire.  Canisters with burning incense tossed off a bonfire smell.

            I hired a lawyer.  I called the county.  They all said the same thing—everyone rears a child differently.

            So I gave up, made her happy, and moved to a country near the equator.  I found a new woman and got married.  Every day of the year we have sun, abundant sunshine, but no kids.

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