Like rude interruptions.
Or something similar.
Footnoted in a book of time.
Marked for scheduling.
Another travesty.
Further dilution of our life.
Dreaming in suspended air.
Fortunate to breathe freely.
Without gasping for oxygen.
One more heartbeat away.
Always waits.
Patiently.
And sweet.
In the moment.
And our nights.
Like stirring it up.
Ready for the get down.
Shake out the dust of days.
Jet stream does its thing.
And the body can't help it.
The taps and bangs and bops.
Movements in unified sways.
Hearing the same music.
It never stops.
These sounds in my head.