Crankiness is a chill, a pain, a scab stayed too long. It's the forming of rust on the loud machine left purposeful out there, your memory its motor. Crankiness is a well-oiled hinge on a metal door that hears itself clang shut, so opens again. Crankiness is a little thing that can fall off, like a tickle pried by a sneaky finger, or a large, clumsy beetle flying the house on a still day, so we may feel the breeze.
Posted by nancy at February 24, 2010 07:57 PM