Sunday, February 25, 2007

Discerning Morning

It was clear to me this morning that something had died.

I awoke to pelting snow; still saturated day-old coffee grounds in the maker; a caged Chihuahua whose histrionics smacked of my mother’s heroin withdrawal when I was twelve; a sleeping boyfriend hung over from the previous evening’s dissipation; a screaming headache of my own whose dome-pummeling reminded me of the frantic lightning bug I once insensitively jarred over summer break—his panicky leaps and distraught wing-flapping, trying desperately to escape the glass container, unaware all along that this would be his final, dissection spot; an out-of-tune piano, keys sticking and creaking, throwing my masterpiece into discordant bedlam; and, not least, another day of lost faith in God, of a realized withdrawal from that ancient and dizzying doctrine.

It was clear to me this morning that something had died.

And as I stood in my bedroom and overlooked 10th avenue, about to pour another day’s dish for the dog, I realized, resurrected, it was me.


posted by A Little Boyish @ 2/25/2007 09:18:00 AM |


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