twilight musings the drifting of the mind. the slow loss, the leaking away. one’s demise is not very interesting. from my bed I watch 3 birds through the east window: one coal black, one dark brown, the other yellow. as night falls I watch the red lights on the bridge blink on and off. I am stretched out in bed with the covers up to my chin. I have no idea who won at the racetrack today. I must go back into the hospital tomorrow. why me? why not?
