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A Glass of Wine, A Ciggy, and A Bat Mask

“Who’s that?” She was referring to the picture on my phone. In the night there was a lot going on in the cyber world, and my phone had woken up before me.

I laugh quietly in response. I am just waking up from a sleep that was deep enough for dreams, but shallow enough for the directing of dreams.

“Is it Michael Keaton?”

We had just seen Birdman, discussing the ending the day before as we all gathered in the kitchen, by chance, at the same time.

“Noo. It’s a woman.”

“Is it Batman?”

“No, It’s Batwoman.” I say casually as Mamma bends over and gives a slightly slobbery kiss on my cheek.

“Alright, see you Taylee. ” She glances around my room to find that I am still messy, that has not changed.

I wake up, after some more directed dreams. I read and I drink my cup of coffee.

That coffee is the main reason I pop out of bed. Popping is no exaggeration. I say “Ok it’s time!” and I pop, swinging my legs and placing my feet firmly on the ground before my body betrays me and lays back down. Otherwise, I could lay there ruminating on how life seems, before I speak to anyone. It is always different once you speak. Reality hits once those lips part. Everything that seemed so urgent, relaxes while other things occupy your mind.

In the morning I am more susceptible to giving into the words and the worlds they create. I feel easier, less distracted by the stoic world outside me. The words creating different meanings to the life around me.

I close the book and set it down on the white tile table. The sun is covering only half of the table, the way it does in the morning before 11. I lay my head down, the sun outlining my profile, exaggerating the triangularity of my nose. I soak in the words lying beneath my head, surprised that it works now that I have no more tests to study for. I am surprised my brain doesn’t make me move sooner than it does.

I think about the man on roller skates yesterday. He was twirling in circles in front of traffic. He was a big man in little clothing, with yellow vintage skates on. He had a black backpack on. When you looked at the pack longer than a moment, you saw the man’s love sitting there patiently, eyes half mass falling asleep as the man twirls. The sleepy Chihuahua trusting the man in little clothing. He knew the man would not be twirling in front of those giant machines if it were dangerous. As the light turned green, the man and his love were safely on the sidewalk, resting before the next twirling bout in the midst of the next crosswalk.

The dream I had, after my bat conversation before my coffee, I was the woman in the picture. Taking a break from saving the world, taking a sip of wine and smoking a ciggy with a bat mask on. After my thoughts about the big man with the little love, I wondered if this dream would ever become reality.


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