On Snow

Just resurfacing after a lost weekend. The first snow has come and popcorns the fields with little hints of whiteness. At moments the sky turns over and there comes a dash or two-- an over-attentive cook trying to mask an uneven attempt.

I lost this weekend to at least 36 hours of sleep. I was down with a flu again, but luckily this time on the weekend, and with my mate in town. Looking back on it I can hardly believe that anyone can sleep that long.

My sleep was so long, so vast that it was at once euphoric and menacing. Sweet and deep and somehow crackling and rough at the edges. I left it feeling a kind of remorse. That is strange. I wonder if coma patients feel the same way, as though they have committed or done by their undoing.

I finally climbed out to peek over the edge last night. As any small animal can tell, night time is a perilous time to first come awake. I had a short bout of shouting around, I am told, I said everything is wrong and you NEVER... you ALWAYS (pretty audacious things for a girl just waking up)...

I am puzzled by the effects; it is not the first time that upon awakening I have started a fight (started is perhaps generous-- it is as though the fight has been going on and at once my eyes and lips are open pronouncing it, like my body has transformed into one of those crawling text headlines, the LED displays perched above our heads in cafes and in taxis... always running).

I apologize for my dinosaur-like qualities. I profusely realize that my head is ancient, full of teeth and thoughts that are remainders of threats and defenses past. I hope you can love even my most ancient, flawed drafts.