mornings at 66

 it's quiet here

the fan's soft music soothes

the tinitus, ache in my left hip

transfers to my right hip

a notification from one of the two

phones in my room. curtain

blows softly, the keys strike a slow

beat offbeat, smoke rising from 

the tip of the joint. 

in 5 minutes i will be required 

to gather everything i need for the day

head to work to lose

 what little self is left in labor.

earlier i recalled a scene of an old

woman being escorted by a younger one.

they moved slowly down the sidewalk

the older's hair wafting in the wind

gray and long as a cartoon witch and i

didn't know if i'd seen it in reality on a 

reel. let's not even go into how silly

that moniker is for the short clips 

of mundanity that we now film

with our cameras. it took me

several thoughts to realize 

it was irl. a stateof being

that is becoming more 

integrated with the scroll

daily. at least i don't only

dream of work these days.

last night i dreamed i fixed

the hot water handle with a screw.

this morning, it still requires

attention to completely stop it.

such is the worth of dreams.