daydream.
squinting my eyes and moving flavors around in my mouth, i got up and took a shower, noting the smells of the tiny garden district apartment that certainly have no place here.
i lit a cigarette. staring and quiet, i took in the smoke that was threaded with mardi gras, circle k, and after dinner conversations on his father's porch.
curious. i walked around the house a bit, attempting to reorient myself with tastes of now. still in my towel, bare feet, i absent-mindedly bent down to pet soleil, but she didn't run from me.
watching the walls, like they'll attack, my eyes catch and touch each nuance hanging from cheap tacks.
maybe it's the music or the humidity or the cold stopped up in my nose or the mardi gras cup i'm drinking from, but i woke up today as though eight months hadn't passed. as though i was on my way to the hospital. as though all of his belongings were strewn across his floor, paused in mid-purpose.
and i walked around this house grasping for familiarity, looking for something to remind me of when and where i live now, not really upset, just a bit confused, wondering where i had gone when i slept last night.
