I say she burned the hell out of her toast and then added sickening apricot marmalade to the disaster. Close up the employee kitchen.

That’s a joke, you say. You have no power.

Quit and live under a bridge.

You can’t, you say. You quit drinking.

Nothing I dream about can happen, and if I don’t dream, I run into more burned toast.

Go ride your bike, go take a picture, write a poem, and paint on a surface.

I say thank God for giving me my escape hatches, and you are one of them. Sometimes, without you, I forget I’m okay.