The steel no longer stainless,
the bowl tidy no more.
Spic and span my counter – not,
the dust mice a thundering herd.
But this page? Pristine,
despite hours of dirty words.
Words elude me. At least words specific to the BIG picture.
See that mountain over there? That tiny blip of a blot? There, on the ridge? That's me. Got my laptop, my spirals and notecards, pens and pencils. High-octane java, a bottle of Drambuie, some chili-infused dark choco. I'm hunkering down for a spell, a right long spell, and not climbing down until I bust past THE END on PURE. There's deadlines, you see.
When I do come down I hope I look like this.
I'm gonna be scarcer than usual.