Originally uploaded by lorenzodom
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One Too Many Lychee Martinis
(How The Robot Escapes Every Evening)
I am moving at lithe speed this morning.
My mind floating, my movements disjointed from time.
It feels as if I cannot move fast enough to do the running list of tasks I must do, to get ready for work. While I am doing one, ten more things come to mind, so that it feels as if I am inclined not to do them.
Fuck. Mild panic ensues as I misconstrue the kinesthetic algorithm of actions that must be applied to the rigmarole of a set agenda imbedded in mechanical time.
Chiseling away, with my programmed vision in mind, little by little, chip by chip, one task after another falls from the list.
My confidence shoots up like heroin firing up an addict’s arm; it grows stronger and I am no longer the inept recovering lush that I imagine myself to be.
Another sip of coffee, another blink in the mirror, another breath to let serenity settle in.
I feel better now
that I may begin
as a well-oiled office employee.