All the nouns

the road
Hard day ahead, 5 a.m. alarm, wake up from a repetitious dream of something something. The beginning of forgetting names, and nouns, and what-else-did-I-forget? Deer at the side of the road sniffing the world. She hopes that my instincts are more clever, but they’re not. She’s not Bambi and I’m not aware of her shadow. I’m slaying Bohemian Rhapsody with Freddy, and pulling a swallow of coffee. My mind’s on the day and hers is on velocity and steel. Follow dark tail-lights, and signal lights that don’t, won’t, aw-fuck-it, they work, they just don’t want to. I don’t dream about winning the lottery, but the end of the day when the sheets are clean, the body is warm, the smell of her shampoo sends me to sleep. That’s the ticket I punch, not the deer, not the Lotto numbers, not the idiot in the Jeep who wants to kiss my car’s ass. Give me a piece of paper and a pencil, and sentences with all the nouns I can remember. I will dream of half-recalled landscapes and the strangers who don’t remember who I am. So sleep well, my friend, until 5 a.m., when the coffee is poured and the dreams become blurred. Drive safe, drive well so that I can revisit the moments I’ve already lost watching the road.

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