i am
exhausted
right up
until my
head touches
the pillow

suddenly
stories sing
and all i can do
is follow them
and whatever
sticks still
in the morning
goes onto the
whiteboard

then i sit
in a fugue state
as the sparrows
hop on the railing
eager for another
half baked tale

so much left
unwritten
so many dreams
unfulfilled

a nice ninety day
with grippy socks
sounds like the
perfect vacation
if only i wouldn’t
have to take me along