Rockport Maine. Glorious drizzle.
The 96% humidity of Boston liquified
my flesh, made me want to lie down
free of all clothes on white sheets,
motionless, barely a breath.
The air felt thick, woolen, furred.
Brain matter turned to sludge,
all thoughts slowed to the speed
of a swamp.
sleep. Nothing to do but sleep. And coffee when necessary. And then of course, alchohol. and then more sleep.
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