Excuse me miss, am I lost?

I have a moral responsibility to advise you against cooking the book. No, that’s not it. What am I asking here? From me - of you - and we can concede that perhaps it’s no longer funny if a voice that’s naturally loud eats whispers like popcorn. Relax, man. When you wrestle a pig, two things happen: you get muddy and the pig likes it.

Don’t forget how important the role is.

  

They can shape perspective of what it’ll be like but you’ll still be the dog walker clutching the leashes. You’ll still be the one competing for attention. Except this time, in spite of this time, you’ll have a mindset that will not let you fail. The dogs might take turns sniffing, peeing, and staring at you with an imagination they might not possess. It’s only natural. Until they know how much you care, they don’t care about how much you know. Relax, man.

Be patient when patience is running out.

 

We don’t know the life that they might be having. A remark that begins humbly sinks its teeth into a question-adjacent frenzy: Tell me who is we and who is they and this you from a previous life? From a previous thought? Vague ideas which no insurance company will cover unscrew like wine bottles. Relax, man. Change the way you feel and ride the learning curve. Things always disappear and seem to be in the present. Embrace the challenge of it.

They would love to be better parents but they’re in survival mode.

 

You’re confused. Grateful but confused nonetheless. No, that’s not it. Teach them onomatopoeia, alliteration, hyperbole, and personification. Teach them to have fun on the playground in spite of the ants that might bite. Teach them to say thank you and push in their chairs. The word is not giraffe, zav, or redemption. I only need one minute of your very best. Life wants to use words but it’s currently not in the brain’s word-part. You know why? Relax, man.

Don’t hide from your mistakes. 

 

He waves a flickering flashlight through the attic like someone that believes Mr. Sandman is an insomniac. ‘Any thinking going on here?’ he calls out. The space between moments forms a valid yet somewhat off-centered representation of waiting atoms. I suspect the answer is important to him. Nobody replies until he pretends to hear a counterfeit mind looking busy. Shhh, let’s get ridiculous and forget things that seem out of place. Notice how the alien eats glue-smeared stars off the wall as the other collects the fire from a motionless rocket ship. It’s only a frame to those who believe it. Relax, man.

The brain will attend to what it needs to attend to.

 

I ate too fast and regurgitated the language like cake. Until halfway through the meal I realized there was no cake. What changes the story? Listen, dreams wake up from people too. They talk amongst themselves like personifications of Jurassic visions which don’t make sense. Relax, man. There will always be another reminder. For example: This habitual dream of enjoying a party where there’s cake. Lots of it. No, no, I say. It wouldn’t be polite to cut the cake and have a slice. My mouth waters. Time passes, like a sarcastic remark. Ha! And I wake up to a new chemical experience. Ah, that cake presented itself inside a situation where I, in fact, would’ve been able to eat it.

 

Relax, man. Don’t edit tonight. It’s been too long but I’m grateful to be back. Confused but grateful nonetheless.

Author's Note

Playing with words again

Reviews

[Rana]

A solo sentence waves and spills some content on the paragraph below, a bowl of interesting reflections. "Dreams wake up from people too" relishable like glue-smeared stars. This art is as successful as ever.