Friday, October 06, 2006

Every morning before my feet hit the floor

There's a whole little world that lives in those few moments when my eyelids slide open just before the alarm sounds. It simmers while my fingers feel for the snooze button and swing back to rub the eyes that have to remember how to focus all over again. It lingers just briefly as the little rods and cones calibrate themselves to the eggshell white on the ceiling above my bed. And just like that it's done before I've even started.

I can't tell exactly but I'm pretty sure that the head and the heart have it out in this tiny place. And every day for the last who knows the heart has been scrapping like he's juiced on something. Off he sends me on the day, all charged up with the strangest things, full of expectations but completely devoid of explanations.

Isn't it fitting that those same moments are the ones that bring me back to you everyday? The very same ones that bring my totally submissive brain back to her every night. Maybe it's not just the rods and cones looking to zero themselves. Maybe it's the whole package.

HEART: This is no emotion. This is the redline. Looks like today's setting will be somewhere around 65.

BRAIN: what do you say we bump it down to 55?


BRAIN: 65 it is. Cue the feet.


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