I went outside.
I took a nap.
I’m rash. I have a
bathroom. I pray the
Lord. And miles to go.
It’s warm. My head is gone.
Exquisitely warm. I sleep.
I went walking in a park
before my nap. A
security guard saw me. He
clinked his keys (or change).
Change. I dreamt I was
in a basement during a
tornado. We slept. He’s
going to work now. I’m
not. I worked five years.
This is my last day of work.
