Mornings Making Life Worth the Trouble

A modest indtroduction into the brain followed by Zoe Keating and her cello, quilted cats, expensive coffee, pickled eggs,a copy of Lolita, and my errant co-defendant co-dependants breathing out bad breath on my blanket, purring, trilling and well lapped, whose bacterail emissions entangle with my own weirdly intoxicating and slowly rising wafts of "thick, lipid-rich sweet sweat," which reminds me of my grandmother in her house dress doing dishes and humming Hank Williams, while the gas unit hums out its own deep wafts, exhaling warm breath for me and the my spirited tres panochas. We have no need nor desire for travel.