It’s rough tonight.
I stayed up late yesterday
trapped in the pages of a book
flying in space at the edge
of the solar system,
shooting around corners
in enormous spaceships,
running from psychopathic killers,
white knuckles ready to throw the book
at the first intruder to launch himself
weightless, into my bedroom.
But at two am it became clear:
we won. And though I didn’t finish the story
I was grateful to turn off the light
and breath a sigh of relief.
Tonight all I have is Paul Simon
and Ladysmith Black Mombazo
for company. Perfect.