Count On It
……. my eyes are pinned to workmen down the street, yellow and white stripe van with little amber lights on top, and they’re pulling thick cables from a wooden spool, the likes of which would make an interesting table for the patio, a great improvement on our wrought iron one with the paint giving way to an eruption of rust, and I hear muffled voices upstairs, which I assume is the radio, although it could be my mister talking to himself, or possibly even talking to me from the far end of the house, and probably from behind a closed door, and he’s thinking that I can hear him when often he can’t even hear himself, example: claiming that he never snores, which is a bold-face denial if ever I heard one, and now those workmen have paused for a coffee, which is exactly what I’m doing – something about the day’s first cup of coffee that seems to work better than any that come after it – much like a glass of wine, by which I mean that the first one always does what you want it to do, but the second one does nothing more for you than give you a whirligig head and a thick tongue that makes a hash of speech, and you can count on that. That’s for sure.
Written for Linda Hill’s #jusjojan and Stream of Consciousness Saturday “Count On It”. AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4). Image and poem ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney