in the morning, i like to have time.

vacation for 4 in Disneyland: $6,000
maybe they're leather sofas: $2,500
the Maytag, the Frigidaire, and the imported coffee: $3,232.00
One Technics turntable that one doesn't regret: $Unspecified but ludicrous sum of money

what an extra 100,000 per year gets you:
a fighting chance.

10 hours of sleep later, poot's java tastes just right.

we survived Astra Pain Research Unit;
we survived Kermit the Frog;
our frame feels older when we feel it
square shoulders today, square mind, square meal.
poots little stomach, little body, little breasts, all feel little today.

a PMSing little poot, ears ringing gently for no good reason, sips coffee in the sun.

this is a square day; this is a normal day; it took many many hours of sleep;
but this is what a day feels like when one has slept enough.

time to make the donuts.

not much humour here, eh poots.

what is in the mind of a poot with crossed cold legs, at six o'clock in the morning.

on some mornings, early and alone, i miss the completeness of the triumvirate;
whatever that triumvirate may be.

gardens growing in London;
phone calls late at night;
explaining; re-explaining; and then re-explaining; sometimes, like in scrabble.

but every day is a new chance,
a new world,
and waiting for a virus to leave your body takes a great deal of patience for a poot, interrupted, who doesn't like much being interrupted.

beating; palpitating; heart; sick; or worried;

poots, determined to write, ignores the real world around her.
it grunts and snorts, it's ringing ears, chafed cheeks,
honey on a bread and questions about sausages;
a television in the distance, keep writing poots.

indeed, the java is sour today, mindfulness must work today

pressures, but not physical, are playing a role now in physics.
the palpitating heart in my chest meets loudly - more loudly now - ringing ears
as no one observes the pressure in my brain and no one observes the racing my my - sick? heart;

is life only physical for me?

back to the java poots,
back to the java.

these dynamics i don't recognize become me.
role reversals - reversal of fortune - mystery - intrigue - 9 to 5 and 5 to 7 -

bouncing around time in an a bubble, days barely hitched together, hitched with driving thoughts; pivoting on emotions; and connections, oodles and oodles of connections.

it bears repeating..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8pQLtHTPaI&ob=av2e

we're all learning. at least i think we are.

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you
I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do
I was made for you
You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what
I've been through like you do
And I was made for you...
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you

i pick your socks from under the sheets, and turning them right-side out, i look around this space that we share.

there ain't much here that isn't stamped with you;
vaguely, the past lets go
...and it amazes me every time.

i inhale your grey blazer, and my mind falls into your arms
the same sinking feeling that got me into this mess,
takes over
and over
and over
again.

these walls are placeholders, waiting only for your return.

i'll watch my Canadian show, while you milk cows and dream of chocolate;