Jan 04 2009
quick quick slow, slow
Two-stepping invaded my dreams. Quick quick slow, slow. Quick quick slow, slow. Couples two-stepping, loud top-forty country blaring from the speakers, my face hot and sweaty and I’m tired, so tired. I woke up too early, my heart still pounding. Damn late nights and what they do to my sleep! My dreams were like a parade of everyone I’ve ever known and have forgotten. I woke up coughing in the night, twice, and thought- what the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with me? I lay in bed for an hour after waking, savoring my warm cocoon and wishing I could fall back asleep. Also, wondering if I should move to the SW hills and be an indentured dog trainer. Would that make it ok? Would that make it possible for me to live in Portland, and still write?
