All the sunlight got stuck slipping through the treetops, clinging to the varied greens and boughs. The wind pitched a fit or two, writhing through the greenery, dancing with cups and bags across the asphalt, scattering litter, scampering through the gravel. Crows on low perches complained and tattled as the little dog and me completed our rounds. The sky bantered with the lowing hills and overgrown lots, spells cast and canceled in the same exhausting breath. The magic had the world in its thrall, everything a litany of flee and tremble.
I move like a set of loose gears working sacks of wet cement, I move with the dull throttle of leaden bones and fetid gristle. Limbs weighed down with sloth and atrophy, the skull a nest of worried bees, each step of the day feeling like a stroll on the bottom of the ocean, like a slog through the depths of the restless sea. There is a hitch in my giddy-up, a series of symptoms due to loose marbles and missing plugs. The whole day spent wandering around, fitfully asleep in my skin.
I did my set of banker's hours. I skulked my paces and caught my winks. Dusk settles along all the skins and seams, a tide with only one direction. The empty halls grow dim and the dim rooms turn dark as light leaves the windows and doors until another day, night pacing restlessly down the road. The shadows creep and the walls seep, those faraway stars only lights and limits. The night arrives, tomorrow only another word. I ease into another set of evidence, witnessing yet again my considered errors and my willful falls.