Song for Forgotteness

Tales for Life

City and market 003

Sometimes you wake up and feel like you’re in the absolute wrong story. The train bell is clanging on time, there are sirens sounding like a rescue to someone out there and a couple of robins that fought for and won a spot on the last anemic elm are making good on the phrase “for crying out loud.” That’s how it sounds to me, their bird blather, though it’s probably just me. I’m no good before the third mug of coffee. Still, this is that morning when waking up feels like an off-beat, failed response to a wrong cue.

I sit by the open window, my bleary vision drifting over the city’s fancier angles and spires, then rectangular testaments to cheap but everlasting. This has been my perch for eight years and the armchair fits me, a lumpy nest. The fluttering beige curtain slaps my face like a soft hand…

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