again

I just yawned and drooled on my desk. I think I've been double-clicking too slowly. But at least I did the cheerios right this morning. Milk in the bowl, juice in the glass. Drip drip drip.
If my shoulders are relaxed it's because of the massage last evening. If my eyes are sparkling under their drooping lids it's because I'm sitting on a bright future. If you can read my mind and cut through that high warm buzzing that comes first, you'd see all that I laid out before myself last night being echoed back. Look, April, you were this, you were the girl who stood on her desk and dipped into glitter and painted her lips bright red when you were on a precipice.
I have been reading back through my archives, trying to encourage myself to remember, remember that I'm still tall and that I'm taller.
I refuse to accept your pronouncements of 'wrong.' I know what I saw and I know what I felt when the bodies and the sounds all came together, when the line of high school boys advanced across the stage, arms linked, bottles balanced on their heads, when the marching band lifted their horns even higher and rushed toward the stands. Again, again, again.