Relieved momentarily from the heaviness of a stuffed nose
Eyes no longer crying from the allergens in the air which they find so upsetting
Seated in a large orange sweatshirt—wishing the cat could talk
Environed in this artificial structure
My ears attuned only to the sounds I choose
My eyes to images the same.
“Maybe if it weren’t so bitter outside in February”
“Maybe if I lived elsewhere”
I would study the habits of birds nesting in my front lawn
Take walks along the river and contemplate green
Learn to turn wood on a lathe
Climb hard and often
Most of all this great invisible beast would be shaken from my back
Every step aches when he hangs on
Making me wonder about my own value
When the whole of the universe is centered around my experiencing of it,
Why worry about such things?
When emotion of any sort is only a chemical response to stimuli that I to a large degree can control,
Why give any credit to this monster, mutation, and maleficence?