Sleep Again, Now

Be here now again.

That's a book about Ram Das or something.
He was old.

My house is old. That's why there's noises.
I get it during the day, but at night it can be unnerving.

I gravitate toward the light.
My fan sounds like a lawn mower outside.
I can pretend I live near a condo-complex where they do yard work for you.
He asked why I don't do some gardening.
I don't have an answer.

The horoscope says I have a green thumb, so I could.
I have been known to talk to flowers when no one is around.
And I do like potato bugs.
And having dirty arms.
Usually it's from painting that I get messed up with color on my forearms.

Dirt will do.

Tomorrow is tuition day. I fight. I plead a case, return a paper, get ready for school.
Art supplies take the place of books this January.
It will be a month to remember.

( parties for sure ensue )