Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Fried Brain Cantaloupe

Butter was beginning to glaze my eyes.
Dust was collecting on my brow.
A cat nap was lingering in my throat.
A weight was settling on all my limbs.

My eyelids creased and wrinkled up.
A spider crawled across the keyboard and my hand.
I only watched.
Fingers through the hair.

I saw through slits.
My mouth was apart, almost slumber kissed.
Fried brain cantaloupe.
One brief moment to close, appease, relax….
for a brief moment…

Not so brief.
The butter was still over me.
Fingers through the hair.
Fried brain cantaloupe.
How long ‘till my next 11:00?

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