Watching the fan twirl the hot sticky air

Feeling the ceiling press against my chest

Taking fragments of mother dreams

Holding back boredom

Anxious to open my lubricated eyelids

Rip off the black brace for

De Quervain’s tenosynovitis

Breathing through my mouth

No smell of life

Pulling off the bed

Memorizing stories to tell

Checking word press

Or Instagram

Or Facebook

Or Hoopla for new tunes

Sliding the battery door on my aids

Opening vocal sounds

Music sensory memories

No yawn

But a sure step takes me

To fan this day