Monday, February 18, 2008

On on on

I should be in bed.

I have been up near to fifty hours with interspersed sleep in three hour clumps. The clumps are like madness that push and grate on my skin, dried out on the world and the world and the world.

I am pushing against it anyway.

Faces bobbing in crowds I recognize. I recognize my own face there. I see hearts content and the end of the rainbow. We are all tired. We all travel. We never get home.

When will this trip end, I think as I get into another cab, travel to another hotel, arrive at another destination.

The bed is lavish and huge, the bath is bigger than the room, and it swirls dramatically at the push of the button. Water runs and splashes on the floor as we bath each other and spill water across our bruises.

What happened here, is the question as bruises are discovered on my travel weary body. In the snow of Chicago that I had braved so well this winter I had not fallen at all. No it was a chili pepper that felled me.

That's the pepper.

And here, they ask, did you fall on a whip.

I try to remember, I think the whip fell on me, or maybe it was just one more lash of this trip taking a bite out of me. I can't remember how I got where.

Tonight I talk theory and execution. Tomorrow I talk theory and acquisition.

And eventually sleep. My brain screams get to bed, but the tired fingers work on keyboards and try to work it all out anyway.

Life as a lash and love the sweet splash of water on burned skin and all of it a swirl amid my travel fever....

On on on.

On on on.

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