bathroom floor

One day, Bret's roommate Wade came home to find me sitting on the toilet (lid down, pants up, door open, lights on) staring intently at the floor with a sketchpad on my knee. "Can't look up... will... lose... bird..." I told him, left leg stretched to capacity, big toe pointing fiercely at a yellow, blobby pattern on the floor. Wade backed away slowly.

You know how sometimes you see faces or shapes in clouds or tile patterns or Gorbachev's birth marks?



Me too.