It feels like midnight, though the sun has just tipped its hat to darkness. For I have spent the day on this floor, working, reading, writing.
The night turns motley. Fresh beer, microwaved dinner, a tedious search for literary mags with an attitude. I'm on the 'H's and wary.
Marvin has long bowed out of asking me what's goin' on. I drift into the bathroom, carefully wash hands for no reason under scalding water. And reach for a paper towel.
And there sits the lion. And there sits the lion. I exhale a watery sigh. It must have been a long day, and I must be really tired. The beautiful bookworm concedes.
2 comments:
And those of us who admire the beautiful bookworm refuse to concede....
You WILL prevail!
Your words are written as though you've imbibed truth serum. Beautiful and relevant.
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