Awakes to warm, fresh air pouring in through uninsulated walls.
Says her prayers (all Thank Yous), then remembers a few pleas..
Checks the phone for goodies hiding behind the Chrome app
(straight into WordPress, though — like checking a menu all over
and still ordering the usual).
Sees “22 new posts” in the upper right-hand corner;
smiles, purrs out an “Ooh-WAH” like Mae West, because she has
no idea what anyone else might say over such a find,
and plows ahead with delight. And coffee.
(Marvels that her coffee parameters have become so stringent.
Ever on the search for java that boosts but doesn’t electrify;
that pushes blood uphill effectively, and nothing downhill into
newly-created bubbles of air.. Poor self, woe is she,
and everyone behind her; flavor has become tertiary. Sad.)
Notes that the prompt word is “static.” Has only one story for that,
told a dozen times, now. Will spare them the retelling.
Tries to leave the computer screen to go view the rain-revealed
grasses out there, the one item in the brownish cesspool
of January that dares to be so falsely but joyfully green.
Succeeds in 3, 2, 1 —