Lost Living
Amanda Morris Light streams through cracked curtains Lighting up the woven jungle scene With a brightness I’m not ready to face. My next article rolls around in my head “ Insomnia Research Perks Up” Scattering dust bunnies Across a plain of dead thoughts And gleaming skeletal failures. I have no choice now but to rise And face today’s lions. I push back my sheets, loathing the creak Of my swollen joints, One too many beers I suppose- I still have a spare On a string outside my window. Something shifts in my room- And then I hear it. Warning! Warning! You’ve lost control! My head rattles- “ See through a haze To understand a voice,” I mutter To a biting wind Shifting on the bench I don’t remember sitting on last night. My hand brushes an old phone box On the wall, a color only someone From the sixties could love While puffing with belov’d strangers In someone’s basement. I press the round red button, And pull words out of my puckered mouth Pushing them into the receiver- “ Teri, I’m lost again.”
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