where's the alarm

The radiator whistles like it’s being attacked by a bear. I had dreams I was rebuilding something, a hammock even though a perfectly good hammock already existed, I was rebuilding the frame, connecting all the pieces, taking them out of the box, laying them on the wet grass and putting them back together again.
I kept listening for my alarm this morning in the darkness. And when it went off I slept for 10 more minutes, tiptoed downstairs to surprise the coffee already made and turned the lights off, closed the doors to not wake a soul. If I could write in the darkness with only my hand as a guide, I would. I don’t care when the lights come on if it’s all crooked and sideways and running off the page. Words should be running anyway. I’ll buy them all sneaks or wings or whatever they want. Maybe even a chocolate bar. It’s almost Halloween and I don’t have a costume. I’ve been trying for months to wiggle out of one. I’ll throw it out to the squirrels and the bunnies and hope they take pieces of it with them down in the dirt, keep my bulbs company until spring.

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