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.