Mr. M. is watching the dawn up. I don’t remember my dream last night.

I woke at the usual times, 3 and 5. That’s a creamy green sky of kiln glass. Mr. M. is a cat. He and I look through the same window every morning and work to name the color. The windy color. The opposite of my 3:00 AM eyes. Fearless and red pasted in sand. I woke because I heard myself speak aloud in my sleep. I apologized to my parents. “I’m sorry. I was here the entire time and made you walk the whole way.”  Since that accident , over ten years now, since I had to salvage any remains of brain bits I speak up in  my sleep. The sky is a Tiffany lampshade.

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