sugar suite

The rusty old routine could not animate my day. i pulled and pulled and pulled. But I could not pull myself up. I had to find another street to walk, another way to talk. I needed help. Otherwise that old couch would swallow me up and feed me to the pullout bed, inside. That rusty old routine I had, had me. I had to act quick, or get lost in the maze of the folds of my mind. So I did. I did! I dropped myself down into the spinal cord chute, and back to my roots.

Next thing I know, I felt a tingle in my toes. And my feet begged my ankles to communicate to my legs; the need to get up and move. The parliament in my upper body tried to fight the motion. There was a commotion. Many an appeal was made in regards to the matter. Soon it was splashed all over the papers. An editorial brought the question to the people. The masses prayed upon it and debated it, in social media outlets, and all over the place.

You should have seen the look on my face. I was getting snail mail from Indonesia, and gifts from Tibet. I had not even had the courage to stand up even yet! My gall bladder had my rib cage engaged in filibuster. My spleen had nearly quit the scene. My auditorium had set a new hearing on the matter. My small intestine by this time, was digesting the overflow from the large one. All the paperwork! Trying to increase its surface area. Getting flatter…. and flatter. Continued litigation was gonna demand a ligation.

Holy shit! The lawyers were getting paid like an overdue cash cow, visited by the milk maid. Finally a congressional order forced a coronary bypass. My stomach was in knots. My liver was contracted to deliver the news in the bladder of a kidney bean, all the way up the vagus nerve, to the central command. Yes. The case had finally gone supreme. Matriculated to the highest high. That skull-encased complexity. The sugar suite.

I stood up in a flash! The motion had passed. At last!  I cried, At last!

Katya, 08/13

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