Wakeful Night

I laid in bed last night thinking about how I was going to change my world. I could win the lottery. Build us a home with a thick wooden fence so the kids wouldn’t stray to the tracks…so the dogs could wrestle and run without the confines of a 25-foot metal leash. But the bills are piling up and we didn’t match a single number past “11.” There’s no work to be had, and no funds to draw from. So I got out of bed and sat on the couch amidst the narcoleptic cats and dogs. I spent several hours watching my heroes in my television sit around a liquor-littered kitchen table playing music on Christmas Eve, and I drank with them. Mine was mostly caffeine because to be true to my honest nature, 20 hours into your day is past the point of artificial stimulants. I smoked cigarettes as they did, and I intently adored their constant admiration of friendly banter. As I laughed and listened, a rectangle of light hit me in my chest through a missing mini-blind. I got off of the couch and looked out the window. The waking birds directed me to an orange beauty partly covered with gray clouds. I stood amazed, watching the light vibrate off of each car on the passing train. Then the music filtered back into my ears. The rhythm on cue and in time with the flapping wings above the trees. I was at peace. Insomnia was still imminent, but it was shadowed by the early April country sunrise.

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