fleet quartz
Ensconcing myself with midday melatonin and a locked bedroom door,
I imagine becoming a new subspecies of pale three-toed sloth [bradypus tridactylus].
I could also become a snail. I envy the dazzling candy cane snail [liguus virgineus]. They leave behind the opulence of their body.
At eventide, I am dyskinetic. The melatonin’s mechanisms kicked in hours ago. Still, I am not asleep. For now, right now, I am alive and waiting.
The magnificent frigatebird [fregata magnificens] spends days and nights awake, exploring.
Their freedom is enviable, but their purpose is unclear.
I no longer sense the melatonin grabbing my eyes or the commercial air brushing my uncovered feet. I’m stuck, not in my bedroom, but now above the South American coasts and above the Guianan moist forests and above the Greater Antilles.
I see the ocean drain and the flora wilt.
I see the sands spin and soar toward the Sun.
In my bedroom, the pale three-toed sloth, the candy cane snail, the magnificent frigatebird,
they all crash and burn and rot.
cyan saddle