try again in the morning
a flight delay returns me back home. tired and irritated. lucky for the comforts of an unexpected conversation to soothe. placate. assure. sometimes words feel like soft plush blankets. and just when we need them. still full of a desire to get out. move. i take a walk in the dark. stray between the glare of the street lamps and the glossy bluish night. tonight the route reminds of swimming in cold water with my eyes closed. cross the ravine that dips down into a shallow. jump across the divide. climb the opposing hill that i know in daylight is now covered in seaweed colored grasses. at the top, i sit and stare into the sky. it’s where i’m supposed to be right now. lie with my palms against the cool grass. the blood rushing to my head tilted slightly downhill. start for home only after it’s gotten too cold. watch a movie. sit on my porch and drink a late night cup of coffee. empty-headed, i fall into a hot bath. soak out the aches that have accumulated across my shoulder blades – the back of the neck. afterward, i turn out all the lights, then remember i’ve meant to listen to a piece of music. lie on the couch. it’s something i don’t at first recognize. the notes divide and then reassemble my day until i’ve forgotten that there are words or any need for them at all.