The Sunday

Make it smell pretty, make it look nice.
The End is Near.
I watch through the veil of the new life in front of me,
taunted by wisps of strawberry blonde.
I decide I want to spend December 21, 2012 with family.
Face the world with faith and not fear, but still have a back-up plan.
I dip the bread, swallow the blood.
Then spend too much time in the steel cage.
Frantic whipping to fill the hunger.
Off again to the cage.
Muted wall, caffeinated air.
A table of only three, but still two hours of big words.
Exploring ideas.
Finding common ground.
Feeling vaguely human again.
Pondering the nature of evil. Of intention.
Home again, jiggity jog, but the boys are asleep.
So I engage in maternal allegations.
Dare the Aldi, a parallel universe.
But I emerge with a trampoline.
Playful food.
Digitally explore the Alamo, to learn. To remember.
Gratitude is the sound of cleaning.
Kisses too late in the night.