9/12/08
Waking
up, wandering out with your eyes squeezed to keep the light out. Someone makes
a smart remark, and your retort is to shamble into the kitchen for a drink.
Feels like a river washing away the sand and gravel. Now you have your voice
back, and your mind’s starting to come around, but now you’re hungry. Has
someone taken it upon themselves to whip up a batch of French Toast, or just
dirty the pan so you can’t make eggs? Well if you have to wait for clean dishes
then a shower will do. But someone bangs on the door. They’re leaving in five
minutes for something, you don’t know what but it sounds fun.
So now you’re eating last night’s dinner inside a roll
that’s more like a sack. Even cold it tastes good. Off to town, to walk around
shops, point out funny facts in magazines no one wants to buy. Start a
conversation with an old man at the diner who looks like he was aged by salt
and sun. He’s been coming here for lunch for fifty years. He flirts with a
waitress who could be half his age, and she laughs as if they’ve played this
game a thousand times. Go for a walk, throw a ball, but soon it’s too hot, time
for home, time to swim. See mom looking at produce wrapped in its’ own leaves
as we head back to the car. Time for home, and a swim.
(to be continued…)
