I showered the stiffness out of my hair this morning. Seattle hit a record October cold and you're playing on your phone again. I can't help but yearn for the things I do not know. What am I blind to today? Who will I be tomorrow?
Surprise will not devour me this time. A digital gift to a wave of chronically bored recipients, you capture the beauty of your face in one hundred single moments. Maybe I should write about something else sometime.
There is an uncertainty rooted in my shaking hands. Am I to start preparing for a predictable hurt? Am I to stop? Both are naïve, drowning or wanting. Show me middle ground so I may know peace.
I'll find comfort in the sound of the space heater on the hardwood. We don't have toilet paper so we use socks with no mates.