Tetris

The other day,
the sun hit my face
at eight a.m.
and I got up,
made toast,
ate it,
and left
for work.

In the car,
I listened to Elvis--
my fav--
and swerved
to avoid
thick-skulled
testosterone-driven
young men
with broken turn signals.

Work went well--
I drank my coffee,
black,
no cream or sugar,
black,
wrote some headlines:
"Heroic Woman saves Dog locked in Hot Car"
"Recession Looms over Wall Street"
"Why we should Save the Penguins."

Sally gossiped as usual,
Bob got angry about everything,
and June finally got fired.
Finally.

I had lunch,
salade niçoise,
edited some work,
played Tetris for thirty minutes,
played Tetris for another thirty minutes,
headed home in my white Toyota.

I got home,
took a shower,
had a nice date with my cat and Netflix,
and crawled into bed in fuzzy warm socks
and Christmas striped pajamas.

Then I woke up.
Blaring lights,
bleachy smell,
sick people smell,
old people smell,
a sudden white flutter,
shortcoat,
tall handsome guy,
smell of Axe.

People all around me,
wide smiles,
crying,
mom,
dad,
you,
and then:

"Welcome back, you've been in a coma for a week.
We missed you.
Car accident while you were driving back from your job at the meat factory."


© 2015   Abby Danfora