Three Days was the Morning

If you go long enough without sleeping, the world starts to look strange. Underwater technicolor. Vivid, vaporous, stained with rainbows.

Tonight I burn through thick fog. The air is heavy, wet with June summer. The humidity makes my skin glow, makes me feel sultry and alive. I saunter through the misted Commons. Walking too fast, I am almost running on damp feet, slightly breathless, wings itching for flight.

My fingers are tingling. There is too much to touch.

Lightning flickers behind brooding cloudsky — indigo and amethyst. Smoky lightning without thunder. Then a gentle rumble. But it’s miles away.

We are dancing tonight in the wet heavy darkness, twirling in circles, enchanted. Spinning rapidly through the words… endlessly. Sentences strung line to line like moist pearls, milky and synchronous, dancing in the pit of my honeyed stomach.

I cannot stop them.

The night wraps itself around me. I am radiant. The sky opens and soaks me in warm fat rain, drenching my gauzy black dress, filling my chunky shoes with water. The clock at Park Street sings its tenth hour. And I’m laughing. I want to sit in the mud and just laugh forever.

If you go long enough without sleeping, when the mind is dreamwalking with too many dazzled thoughts, soaked with exchange, torn down and reconnected; the imagination throbs on, painting oily images in the black pools of rain, where steam lifts from cracked concrete. Dancing through the weeping willow night beneath a sky lit gold and magenta by electricity.

I am luminous.

Tonight is fantastic, impossible. Mardi Gras. Carnival. New Year’s Eve. It’s the weather, I think, the insatiable trembling of electrons in the air, making me giddy and dangerous. It’s a holiday. And I’m wandering home, water drizzling down my face, stunned and sodden at the hands of the storm, submerged in this ardent, churning city; it flows through every inch of me.

I am this electricity. This soulburning mindfuck.