Tuesday, March 22, 2011


I've never wanted to be a suit. You know the kind: a swath of sameness, dark gray, maybe pin-striped, cardboard cut-outs of dudes projected outwards from a suit.

They travel in packs, with similar haircuts and shoes and grooming habits. They have similar idioms and laughs. They may pull for different sports teams, but don't push much beyond that.

We've encountered them waiting for an elevator, all piling on at once.

"Suits," we both said, and nodded, and everything was implied and understood.

We waited for the next elevator.


Kelly said...

haha, so my first comment to you is on my blog, then the second is your post Doug Declines....then this. i like this post, the last few lines especially. i read you with coffee this morning only to discover a comment from you later. HA! i love how we cross the other every so often--happy spring, be well~!

Michael Valliant said...

Happy spring to you, Kelly! Truly dig reading what you are up to down at the beach. Soul food, The Impulse Itself is...