counting stars

Sometime before 5 a.m. Monday morning, more rain washing out of the sky than nearly imaginable, likely 10,000 tiny flash floods all through the city, college students warm and dry under winter blankets – no northern light show, no stars to count, no moon reflecting soft glow in the eyes of dreamers – I finished another book. There was no sense of accomplishment. Just – cool.

I’m guessing the rain, too, with no self-centered sense of accomplishment. I see my mind like a merry-go-round, spinning back and back again to right here now, after the book – these ancient sneakers like slippers, this rented chair, my so early Pages. Later there’s a dentist appointment, and later still an evening shift at work.

Maybe someone can tell me what Wednesday will look like.