I stay in bed too long most days. I boil water when half awake. Then forget to add the coffee. I’m out of tea. I feel the cold floor on my bare feet. I could put on socks or turn up the heat. I do nothing much. I worry about animals. Here and in Africa and the last cloud leopard. I want to write a check to make their lives better. I’m out of stamps. I want to call a friend who is still in Vietnam, but it’s noon here and midnight there. I call anyway. As if he could answer.
By Paul Jones