I saw Amelia Earhart in the city just a moment ago

standing on the corner of one avenue or other,
looking up at a little sliver of sky cut open completely by scrapers and cranes.
In a plastic bag, dangling delicately from the crook of her index finger,
three tomatoes, plump and red, almost luminous.

I called out her name and she spun around, linen flapping lightly
like canary feathers around her ankles.

She looked down at me, for a moment surprised
as though she wasn’t expecting anyone to find her there. well hello,
on your way home?

I nodded. What about you?
Hmm. Yes, me too.

She tucked a few short grey curls behind her ear
A bit windy today, isn’t it?
turned to the sky again and
as though finishing a conversation cut short, mumbled
no matter, no matter.

Then slowly she turned to look down,
landing her gaze safely in mine
before saying softly
Will you give my thanks to your mother? For the orchids.

I will, of course. Did you like them?
She nodded and smiled.

It was lovely, indeed, to be so remembered.

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This is Amelia Earhart

This is Amelia earheart

i repeat

This is me

I am knee deep

in water

we have taken a lot

not sure

how long

we can hold

it in

or out

This is me

Send greetings to your

mother

Thank her

for the oranges

The first time

I flew

Sorry I meant to say

Orchids

Keep mixing up

the O´s

First time

I flew

I thought birds were

the luckiest

creatures

I was a woman bird

with helmet and leather

gloves

made by a cow

or sheep

I keep mixing up

the kettle

This evening I forgot

the tea

the kettle

on the stove

This evening I was bored

then I saw you

so beautiful

over there

with your ripe

tomatoes

in hand

or was it me?

I am sorry

I keep mixing up

the you and I

There I was

ripe toma

toes

in plastic

material of the future

I waved at you and you at me

you smiled and hugged me

even though

its not allowed

to hug strangers or aquantenses

especially when they are 115 years

old

straight

from the sea

but maybe I hugged you

first

I cannot quite

remember

bad memory comes with

old age but what

I do remember

is the softness of you

like the softness of water

knee

deep

the hardness of steel

the ripe tomatoes in hand

risk

group

no more visits

at the elderly homes

allowed

we will die

sooner or later

probably sooner

if they don´t turn this home into a zoo or jungle

first hug since February

felt so warm

but you gave a hug

you asshole

sorry

what doesnt kill you

i forgot how

songs go

please remind me?

did we meet at

slussen?

thats where I imagine

this meeting

had happened

even though

that place has been

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

for almost

All

My

Life

Will you make tomatoe soup

or what?

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 large onion, cut into large wedges
1 can tomatoes, we prefer to use whole peeled or crushed
1 1/2 cups water, vegetable stock
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt, or more to taste

Melt butter over medium heat in a large saucepan.
Add onion wedges, water, can of tomatoes with their juices, and 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Bring to a simmer. Cook, uncovered, for about 40 minutes. Stir occasionally and add additional salt as needed.
Blend the soup, and then season to taste. The soup doesn’t need to be ultra-smooth, some texture is a nice touch.

Sorry

For earlier

I didnt meen

to yell at you like that

Or call you

an ass

I would never

call my little sister that

even though I wonder

Sis

why do assholes

got such a bad rep

all through out history

male fragility again?

tell me why?

aint nothing but a mistake

Tell me why?

I never want to hear you say

I want it

That way

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