West Side Gray

Something muted in my head told me to write today. But it remains muted (waiting for blueberry pancakes).

The corner here is gray and the restaurant lights float like greenish gold orbs reflected over the creeping traffic. Even the sky is smoked... And I? I am tired today... in an "early eve of Winter" kind of way. Resigned to the dullness after the excitement of memory last night.

B and I are a reminder of all things possible that will never be realized. My mind finds comfort crawling to those corners.

Today is a navy blue sweatpants day. But I am in jeans.

I found a lot in the library today-- dusty paths that may never go further. (More kinetic, no-- I mean "potential" energy and dust...)

People keep stopping to read the menu posted outside the window near my head. They hover into shadows on my hops and I feel tickled with paranoia and suffocated.

6:00 PM

The sky is still gray. Muted. Muted as my thoughts, as my dreams for the future and shadowed even as the cobwebbed trails of the present.

Pancakes have arrived!