From yesterday, there isn't much I like, so this may be another round of writing and thinking. But it's late, so I'll have to write quickly. Sometimes that's a good idea.
My bait hangs like ... calling the bass and catfish
...as if it...guarded the perimeter of some undersea nation.
Hmm. That's it. OK, let's just write some stuff. And I have to remember, the word is palter. To talk/act insincerely. To trifle with.
I knew a woman who said, "I wouldn't divorce
unless there was physical abuse." And I almost said,
"But what if he said, every day, 'I sure wish
you were a little prettier.'?"
Three hundred sixty-five utterances a year. Paltering
to his wife, wearing her down like throwing pebbles
against a tree trunk. Smirking at his friends afterward,
drinking his beer that she just brought.
There's no harm, she thinks, he's just teasing. But
each day she becomes an old newspaper. She dresses
in pale blue. When she talks to you, she reminds you
of a lab hamster always expecting the needle.
Well, there're a couple of good things there. A theme's emerging. I really like "she becomes an old newspaper." I hope I can keep that.