The Day After

Filing, protesting, adhering. My mind turns like a ferris wheel on a summer’s evening. Changing my course of direction constantly, yet not truly creating much distance from the base of its existence.

I have adapted to this repetitious pattern, yet have not fallen in love with it. Longing to gallop my heart away from intuition and sensibility. My mind says no. My heart persisting, let’s go!

When will the waves crashing through my capillaries and arteries inspired by the unsteady beats of my heart, be still? Flipping like a dolphin’s fin and floating like a styrofoam peanut on the water’s surface, my heart fails to take refuge on firm land. Far from the shore where my physical body feels the soft sand seeping through clenched toes while sailing a string across the waves. I am attempting to catch my heart.

As I feel these emotions flooding over me, I sip light roast from a container I take with me. The last thing I need is the affect of coffee to accompany these thoughts that race a thousand miles. It has added another thousand and doubled the speed.

Yet, as cream dulls the bold flavor of the bean, reality is stirred into my fantasies creating a homogeneous mixture. The dose is just enough to calmly reassemble my entirety.

I’m in love with the memory but realize it provides no aid to my future.

However, when I desire to submerge my toes at the shoreline and drift away from my repetitious patterns on land, I will board the vessel containing the crates full of my past experiences.

Published by Anna Buck

"everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."

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