good morning. wake up. throw on some pants and hop out of bed. rub your eyes. squint as the sun comes up like a flaming dog hopping over the mountains to the east. look around for some socks. it was cold last night and the covers came off your feet. play hopscotch between the mounds of unfolded clean clothes littering the floor.
hat goes on as you unlock the door. there was a helicopter buzzing last night. looking for a man in a sweatshirt. a grey hooded sweatshirt. might be armed and dangerous. jesus. shirt slides over your bony shoulders and falls to your waste like a calf being caught with a rope. downstairs. coffee. you hit your half-asleep head on the refrigerator door.
good morning. the kid next door is screaming bloody fucking hell. the cat’s staring at you from outside looking like he wants something. he knows damn well you’re allergic. coffee is amazing. life pouring through your veins. black and hot. open book on the table is calling. didn’t finish the last few agonizing pages last night. each word a bastion of sleep from the mouth of a hypnotist. must read the rest. even though you know the hero dies. drowns in a river outside of Memphis. sad fucking story.
the cat’s licking itself. you scratch your ever-loving head. still reeling from the refrigerator door. need to wash your hair. little snowflakes fall down and settle in cozy on the rim of your glasses. first cup of coffee is gone. on your way to an overdose of caffeine bliss. years pass while reading. the hero’s dead now. picking up your guitar to play the blues wouldn’t do him justice if you were Blind Willie Johnson. it’s the most beautiful day in the world on the other side of the sliding glass door.
good morning. only for another ten seconds. now it’s a good afternoon. the cat knows it. probably better than most people. he sits around licking his ass all day. sleeping too. you finish the bagel you made a couple hours ago. shoes slide on easy after years of neglect. your guitar is jealous as the door opens. you feel that blast of hot October air on your face like jumping in a warm bath when you’re covered in dirt. you can still see the moon kind of faint on the horizon. never understood that. the moon. in the middle of the fucking day. flirting with the sun in the sky as you close the door. good morning. wake up.
