Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Salt (through my Water Street office window)

Downtown smells like salt. Not that rancid-scallop smell Halifax gets, but hard-biting salt water, the stuff that'd scrape the features off your face as soon as freeze you to death. Fog's coming in, so it's too chilly for short sleeves and skirts. That lady with white hair who often wears high platform boots and asks you for change in a very professional voice (was she once a receptionist?) stands across the street, breasts down to her navel in a thin old exercise bra. People ignore her. She shakes all over for a moment, picks a few times at her crotch, then moves on, dragging a wheeled suitcase and a cooler behind her.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Ya know what, her name is Marilyn. Don't ask why I know this, I just do!

PS. I want to read your new book... does is say on your website when it's due out? (A quick scan didn't show me, but then, I might have missed it!)

You're awesome, Michelle, keep up the hard/good work!

Anonymous said...

You sweetheart. Thank you.

I'm so glad you told me her name.

My next book should be out in October. Making final revisions now.

-- mbh

Spark-gap transmission / Michelle Butler Hallett

Spark-gap transmission / Michelle Butler Hallett
in progress