Woke up sweating from sleep,
hot as hell in the room,
peeled my face off the pillow and sat up,
heard the old man inside of me,
crochety old cuss,
mumbling something about antacids and aftershaves,
he usually sleeps soundly but sometimes he mumbles about old wars and politics.
Heard the dad inside of me rip a snore right through my chest,
one of those snores that shudders your limbs.
heard my own age echo back on itself, begging for water and a handful of almonds,
always craving something,
wiped the sweat from the caves in my knees,
scooped out the pools on my neck,
under my eyes,
wiped it all away and slammed my brain back into the dream state of my pillow, so deep that breathing was almost labored,
not for punishment,
just because there wasn’t a shit to give at the time.
and in that state after waking,
started looking for the idea or the theme or whatever that kept us all together:
the old man, the dad, and me;
looked for what kept us as one in the same person as opposed to death.