A Poem for Friday the 13th

Woke up on the wrong side of the morning today. Between the alarm clock and daylight, dreams of troubling weirdness: a financial advisor in a hazmat suit, my husband proclaiming his love for a stranger who’s picture is on the refrigerator (there are no photos, except for one of us).

Tried to book a flight — a continuing saga from 2 hours wasted time last night.

Failed to respect, guard and defend my morning writing time; went right to my ‘paying the rent’ work, instead.

Big mistake.

That leaves me here, 10 am, with a hole in my brain and no plane ticket, looking at video of two hour TSA lines on the web.

The gashing sound of silence is the absence of anyone giving a shit. 

gateway laptop