As we careered down highway 128 on the way to mendocino and the individual rocks in the pavement squeezed between the grooves in my tires, propelling us forward, I understood the urgency of getting away. The human part of me was not meant to sit still and be sucked into the cracks of domestic spaces that canada pharmacy disappear when you are on the move. The other part of me is ambivalent.
63 mph is
the speed of meaning and sense. When things move too slow one believes that there is a chance for escape. The senses are not http://canadianpharmacy-drugstorerx.com/ set to react with grace and confidence, but prepared only to dread the acceleration of the surroundings beyond one’s control. As a body approaches 63 cialisonline-lowprice.com miles per hour, it physically accepts the possibility of swift disaster or evasion. That acceptance tastes like so much diner coffee on my tongue and calms several festerings of anxiety.
At night we scarf down tasty pub fare and pints. I am a pacing maniac at the hotel, hoping for yeasty words to sprinkle from my mouth into the maddening dough of possibility. In the morning we are chewing an acid that turns everything on. I spend most of the day trying to document where to find the switch. Humility, humbleness, and love are a warm, shallow stream around one’s knees with an occasional undertow of despair and the real. I’m confident in the anchor I’ve left back in reality viagra price cvs so I explore with a purposeful abandon. I’ve been handed the
chemistry set of my identity and I start mixing the chemicals around, perhaps unscientifically.
I’m waking up every few seconds trying to remember what dream I was having that took place just a few feet back on the path and now I’m waking up again and what was I just about to say in that dream that seemed so familiar and here comes another waking and I’m so exhausted.
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