September 21, 2021

recipe

There are running enthusiasts materializing out of the fresh autumnal air. 
I pass them on my way back from the grocery store, where I’ve purchased
the makings for a key lime pie. My eyes land on a ripple of calf, a tightening
bicep, the lithe silhouettes following behind. I’m still recovering from that poor sleep
three nights before. I keep waking hours before sunrise, trying to advance time
by writing letters in my head that never get finished. The news seems to be 
on a similar loop, concentrically worsening. Each day feels like a debt growing by
cataclysmic degrees, and I wonder if that’s why the runners look almost jubilant,
matching paces with the advancing disaster, briefly neutralizing their own dread, and why later,
I will bring out the stainless steel bowl and the whisk and roll up my sleeves.