Good Dog, Good Coffee

Sometimes I stand, leaning forward slightly, eyes closed,

Palms pressed against a wall

Where I I try to confine thoughts to the cadence of my heart.

But I can’t escape the continuum of visions

From years ago clamoring for attention.

If only I could escape.

Last night the wall collapsed on me

I wasn’t hurt, only dirty from friable particles

That covered me like a shroud.

I rolled out of bed, unaware of my presence until the dog licked my neck.

Good boy, I said.

We went downstairs. I made coffee. He curled up on his bed by the kitchen.

The coffee was good, even though it wasn’t quite 3:30 a.m. 

I’ll remember this some other day.