The garbage trucks drive through my neighborhood
twice a week
very early in the morning
they always wake me up unless I wear earplugs
in which case, I can't hear my alarm.
Rude.
I awoke this morning
panicked
sure I had overslept.
I'd had crazy, vivid dreams
of moving out of my college dorm
(a typical dream at this time of year)
of planning a goodbye dinner with some sorority sisters
(whom I honestly have not thought of in a decade)
of needing a haircut, under an oak tree, in the rain
of middle schoolers' secondlines across glass overpasses
of drinking from really fabulous champagne flutes
of having a non-smartphone again
of not being able to talk to this boy I really like.
Decided "I'm up. I'll blog!"
As soon as I got out of bed
I realized that a mosquito had gotten into it last night
and made a buffet
of my lower legs.
Rude.
Opened my computer
And my beau had left a poem up for me:
How to Foretell a Change in the Weather
reminding me to keep writing
keep observing
keep loving.
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