I arrive at the potluck. I had convinced myself that I had no time to make the salad I was now holding. Baby spinach, green onion curlicues, sharp cheddar, smoked almonds, dried cranberry, sesame oil, fresh from the back of my car: trunk salad. Yes, I had placed it there before dance, but after the coffee date which came after the faculty meeting following a French toast breakfast n’ phone call. I have arrived. I am holding a cool salad….I smile, being cool…feeling as if I’ve been on a loop d’ loop all day long. There is so much happening, happening here. I make my way through the entry -waving, sloshing the salad bowl to the kitchen onto the table, a plentiful spread. I open a beer, head to the back deck, a second story offshoot
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