Lemon Colored Sunrise Monologue

deep breathing and first light revelations

I. prelude

the grapefruit and lemon colored sunrise assures creation of angels and eulogies and obituaries and

it guarantees life, it guarantees

death

something about seeing that the newspaper isn’t delivered by a teenage boy on a red bike, but rather a middle-aged man in a shoddy car is disappointing, to say the least

the clouds and sweet morning air, the kind that feels like charcoal on skin and tastes like chemicals and ice shards lodged in your throat

sits heavily on my chest and something about this kind of morning,

this 5 am feeling of regret and anxiety, a gentle anxiety nonetheless

reminds me that autumn is cold and paperboys can’t just go around freezing on an old bike and not everything
other

i’d like to believe that the future i have loosely planned will occur or, maybe not;

i’d like to believe that there are angels with marshmallow feathers and glowing

eyes living above with satisfaction gleaming in their bodies; i’d like to believe

my identity will be considered valid in the future when i don’t have a husband or

children or a suburban home by my family and myself; i hope i learn to not

laugh at death and learn to skip stones and swim in deep water without hugging

my knees to my chest while holding my breath; in the future i can’t wait to be

living truly at five am with a sense of acceptance concerning that gentle ebbing

pit of anxiety; in the future i can’t wait to see the sun for who she is and