by Jeanne Friscia
In the freezer, my brain sat, where I left it this morning, forgetting to pull it out and place in a bowl with tepid water in order to defrost with ease, ready for a late afternoon writing session. Had I done that, maybe it would've come to lovely supple room temperature by now blooming with images, but I didn't. While I did laundry, printed out boarding passes, printed out conference materials, planned outfits instead throwing my favorite clothes in my suitcase assuming I’d figure it out later, my brain remained rock hard. Took a break, walked to the farmer’s market with Ed to get peppers for the pozole. Should've taken it out, I said five blocks from the house. It was 3:00 when I said fuck! and finally pulled my brain from the freezer, plunged it under the hot running tap, and scraped at the graying bits trying to loosen around the edges to see what I could salvage.
Jeanne Friscia experiments publicly here.