asleep too early only to awaken at three a.m., then, five thirty a.m.
Dreaming in lines of prose
For the first time in a while.
/a kitchen hood fan/
I shoot awake and word-play potentialities for the phrase.
Three contexts I conjure before kicking the endeavor to
N plays ball with the deceased Jessie-pup.
A Border Collie with no one to herd but a slobber-covered tennis ball.
“She doesn’t know when to quit. She gives herself heat stroke. Don’t let her eyes get too red. She needs a summer shave. I did not know that she was still running.”
A nod acknowledges.
Then I remember, the gal knows how to throw the ball with her own mouth.
A sharp knocking kicks me conscious.
Just hammers from next door’s reconstruction.
Walk the block.
My body awoke, but the coffee still ain’t caught what passes for my mind up.