mortality

*
a dog barking like time lets me know this day won't last forever. none of these lazy sunday's will last forever. his bark nags and yanks constantly at my collar as i sit in this swivel office chair pulling on a chain that binds me to a certain physical reality. the law of existence.

sound travels in waves. the minute hairs in my ears vibrate and shake, exuberant fans in a sports arena, they do "the wave" and register barks like seconds, seconds like cells dividing, cells dividing then falling, because divided we fall, and in falling we are sung into our graves by one lonely bark from a dog down the street. only he knows that someone has broken the chain of time. "escape! escape!" he cries. but he's not tattling on me, no, he pleads, "pray take me with you. escape! escape!". i listen to his whine drifting down the miles.

*
i like to be efficient. i like to put the toaster away as i wait for the kettle to boil. the toaster lives next to the boxes of tea in the cupboard adjacent to the stove. i smile at the fluidity of my motions, toaster placed to the right, the slightest angle change of my hand to left and i bring down the box of tea. meanwhile the water boils on.

my young and nimble fingers open the box with no difficulty and the sensitivity of my finely tuned digits extracts one slim tea bag. i close the box neatly like a sewing surgeon. i lift the kettle a fraction of a second before it whistles. i know this because my sharp eyes witness quick hot breathes of stream exuding from the kettle's quivering mouth. i pour the water, not a drop spilled. perfect control.

i am young and my memory and my body serve me well. i shudder to imagine my depression when i get older and both memory and body begin their inevitable and disappointing disappearance. then who will be efficient for me?