I’m organizing my thoughts, those cuddly love snakes. I was going to hire a tutor, but I’d only be cheating myself. My doctor says that after three weeks of bedrest and the right medication, I won’t be laughing at myself anymore, I’ll be laughing with myself—although it may become harder for me to distinguish stalactites from stalagmites. Yesterday, I woke up at the crack of noon, and before I could stumble into the kitchen to begin my daily accidents, I realized that I’ve been working so hard on my plausible deniability, that I’ve begun dancing to my circadian rhythm. Bad habits are heard to break. Good habits are hard to keep. Each time a Diamondback sheds its skin, it gains a rattle. Hope I’m not reading too much into that.
Appears in Steam Ticket, Spring 2023