Turn the blast shields. The blinds. It is supposed to be cold tonight. I have been told. The clouds are stopping by before. We will make them crackers and jam. I am out of tea. Check the boxes. The old boxes. There are bones in them. We are always out of tea. We will make them crackers and jam. And butter in a small dish.
One day the sun will be so bright anything it touches will be vaporized, you know. You have slept poorly when you wonder. Of the sound that world will make each morning. Until everyone out of doors within hearing is dead. Because you slept funny. Noises squeeze through the front of the bones and bits of your face when you press a fingertip to the corner of your nose. Where it meets your eye and a droplet dries.
They are coming to visit later. Sunglasses make eyes lazy. Rain is not stopping by and it is good to be sure to leave the orange juice upstairs. Do not forget to pick up tea. The blankets feel the way you said your skin did back then. None of my business now. Waving ripples in their pool. Get up and towel off and put on clothing.
In the kitchen. The sun is blinding. The window and shields must remain open. For the animals. The moon will not know if I am home if it cannot see me when I sit inside the rug in front of the kitchen sink and make ripples in its pool inside the dark. I do not have toy boxes anymore. Project boxes. Project boxes. Close the blinds. Open them. The moon. The clouds will be by later for crackers and jam. Lawnmowers have not been mowing. Is always very soothing on the ears. Are the windows to the sinus cavities. You know.
Undress. All of it. Take off your clothes before swimming. Or they will get wet. The clouds will be by later. We cannot wait for crackers and jam. The photos will not turn out well in the shade. Try to get some sleep. Instead of driving down the two lane roads. With the rumble strips dividing conscious and unconscious and vaporization. Coffee is lazy. The sunlight slipping between the slats of the blinds is dazzling.
