I get up before the dawn and work at convincing myself that I can make the most of this day.

 

Roll over into a static field 

the energy between us in bed 

the morning alarm

the newswoman's voice as a bridge

from the dream world of the unconscious to the 

un•con•scion•a•ble world of waking up.

 

I roll into the blankets like a piece of sliced cucumber in a sushi roll,

the darkness oversalted soy sauce.

 

I don't remember my dreams from the night before.

But the conversation I had with myself when the alarm went off

in an attempt to convince myself to get up and out of bed this morning,

well that,

that was inspiring, 

enough.

 

At least to myself.