This morning Larry pointed out an article in the paper about a robotic arm. The woman in the picture was able to get the arm to raise a sippy cup to her lips through thought. She thought the command and the arm raised the cup.
“How can it do that?” I wondered.
“I don’t know,” Larry said, “but it’s certainly going to energize domestic violence.”
Larry is some what harsh and pretty damn funny.
On the subject of Milkweed, didn’t you write a poem about those strange pods, something about them exploding to spread their seeds? I remember walking down a dirt road, near your crazy ranch and you pointing them out to me. I had never noticed them before and was impressed with their rangy charms. Ever since that day they jump out at me every now and again and of course, I think of you.
Yes, I remember that line I think–something like “milkweeds burst like strange stars/in the light of day.” The poem is lost, which is probably just as well. As for Larry’s black humor, I remember when the young Spanish girl was knitting a sweater for our still to be born first baby and I marveled at her knowing how to do it without a pattern, the two arm holes perfectly symmetrical, Larry said: “How do you know how many arms it will have.” That’s my guy.
That’s just the kind of remark I soooo appreciate. Seemingly out of the blue, equipped with a stinger, zinger.