although combined to unwind calculation, our nerves, a little numb, didn't notice the gas gathering below us: a yes-no-maybe box and the clock's counting pupil shifts here to there, without a steady lock, comparing the sum against inner intention, dividing the serpent tongue's taste for oxygen while we edge a double yellow line and gravitate toward the signed reward now that forward progress conformed, the roar of the festival enters triple digit decibels and we soar beside a thermal tide until an alarm's digital scream intervenes and the covers come away when colombian gourmet is wall to wall in the room and the hall and the kitchen cupboard calls for a caffeinated rush to crush the dream, start the day.
I love it! How quickly we sacrifice the sanctity of dreams and sleep for a little jolt of caffeine. I'll have a new one for you soon.
