Sunshine Melody

This I learned from Italy:

Sunny Sunday. Comfortable t-shrit. Old jeans with the holes at the knees. Stop at the store: two apples, a croissant, hunk of gouda, some gypsy brand salami, and a bar of chocolate (Veritas Chocolatier's espresso & milk chocolate fittingly).
Grab a knife. Grab a drink.
Grab two scripts off my desk -- one rehearsing at the theatre; one I'm revising for a commission -- and head to the lake.

Nothing but sun and our sea of a lake. A few couples walk their dogs. Some fishermen. A guy who shows up when I do with his guitar. Same mission; different weapons.

But the sun cannot cut the cold, and I last 30 minutes before the chills impede my turning of the pages.

When does this damn city warm up!

I mean, honestly.

Back to the apartment and two sleeping cats surprised I'm back so soon. Open the blinds. Let in the sun.

A picnic on my coffee table.