Boiled Egg Sunshine

Sun floating up there like a boiled egg, as wind whips up the cloud and tree branches rake the sky, I stood neck deep in the ground, in some version of inferno, sending up prayers, eat your boiled eggs and wipe crumbs off the counter.
A gulp of water to wash it down. Don't drink too much coffee or you might start trembling and shaking your way into some sort of salt and pepper fantasy about the universe. It's really quite ordinary, like bleached fliers, candy wrappers, rusty screws and fallen branches on the front lawn, at eye level when I get up to close the basement window. Detritus and noise spiral into this apartment as tail pipes shoot exhaust fumes from vehicles racing down the street.

Ok, another quiet day done, nothing special to say, another night is going to happen, with some more dreams, mostly to be forgotten.