midday yoga
a music festival is spilling out in the park next door and there’s a storm this weekend which is not great for them but at least i am safe here behind the glass panes of the rattling windows of my third storey south london flat. yesterday after lunch i wandered to the neighbourhood bookshop and stood for forty-five unapologetic minutes reading joan didion until they closed, and then i walked home wondering when i’d die: is my body shutting down, what if i don’t wake up tomorrow morning, i made plans to clean the bathroom and call my friend in berlin and oh god there isn’t enough time to do it all. not yet, please lord, i still want to hang out with my mom and fly her around the world and take her to a jazz bar, not the experimental kind she doesn’t know how to listen to but a smooth one she would enjoy, i want her to retire so filthy rich she can take yoga class in the middle of the day, please keep me alive until then, i'll do anything you say.