that night

apres le pez

that night sleep did not arrive in any way it had before.

my bones were a hum with a burning -er perhaps eating that egg salad that has been alone in the sun all afternoon is not the best choice -

and the little tiny traiangular steroids were chatting with my narrow marow sticky self

and the flavour or hot dogs and mint was awash in my swollen and tender veins -

but - ahhh what dreams may come queen Mab - when in the arms of juliet you sleep

and what dawn brings - dark or light - at least we made it through that night