Reset Forty-Seven, Day Forty-Seven

So, choked on the monotonous hours and the ill-timed sleep, I wander witless through another day and night, and The gray morning and the leafless breeze-blown tree pile loads of vague memories on me, whereupon I drown in undifferentiated nostalgia and regret. I've been having where-the-hell-am-I moments. I'll get absorbed by whatever is on the monitor and, wondering how the sky looks, will reflexively reach up to pull back the curtain on the window that burned away over four years ago. Then I have to remember where I am, and still not be quite certain.

Or maybe I'll wake in the early morning darkness and wonder if I just heard the car of the guy delivering some 1979 edition of The Los Angeles Times to the back apartment just pass along the driveway that's 40-odd years and 600-some miles away. Or I'll be reading a deeply engaging book and suddenly panic because I can't remember if I bought my RTD bus pass this month, but this month is in 1982. That's the sort of shit you don't expect to happen to you, and then it happens. But what the hell, if I live long enough I'll eventually forget that too. But I wonder what equally unexpected shit happens then?


( Sunday Verse )