I am wide awake at 12:45. Like I have been sleeping for years. Like Rip's been Winkled, drugged for decades. My nerves are not frayed. Not like split ends. But like branches. Fingers. Like my arms have 87,000 hands and every hand has 162 fingers and every single one wants to touch the biggest thing available. The blue winter sky. Past the noon sun into the night. Then a million nights and days worth of space and spinning.
I am wide awake again. Like I forgot about living, even when I was living and enjoying the living done. I am awake again. The calluses on my feet are softening by the second. My teeth are growing back their sharp edges. The gray hairs are shrinking back into my head.
God, I am awake again.
