Tuesday, August 11, 2009


On the tour bus to Georgia O'Keeffe's, a four-year-old left her mom to come sit by me because our outfits matched. Her: red dress, beaded necklace. Me: red romper suit, feather earrings. She held my hand on the tour, and I brushed the blonde hair out of her face.

My name's Ali, what's yours?
My name's Leigh.
That's a pretty name.

That's a sagebrush tree, I said. Go put your nose up to it.

I am a magnet to four-year-olds. I am Mecca. Does this mean I'll soon give birth to one?

I drove to Ojo Caliente. For miles there was only one radio station I could get, and even it flickered in and out. My skin is now the color of my romper suit. I ate fish tacos and chocolate peanut butter ice cream in Santa Fe, and then drove home to the casita where I am staying, where there are three goats in the yard who like to look in my bedroom window when they hear me arrive.


Eastern Cynic

Wait, I'm confused. Are you doing the things in this post or is Georgia O'Keefe?

newyorkette said...

Aw. I love goats!

Sophie said...

This sounds amazing. I'm starting to get scared you're never coming back. How can New York possibly compete with Georgia O'Keefe and goats?

Michael Northrop said...

I didn't pay all that much attention in Spanish, but doesn't Ojo Caliente mean hot eye? Do the goats know about this?

ryan manning said...