Monday, they call it
But mine will not be boring
The perfect excuse to make a new start
Speak out from my Guts, start the fire spark
Flat’s a mess, hair’s frizzy and can’t find my keys
I love the War zone where I shall plant my tree.
Weekend chaos mimics the Big Bang
Energy flowing -it’s body-soul mis match
Because this week my World will change
I blow a kiss to the mirror
Don’t I love this place!
I’ll fix it as it breaks
Because there is such thing as Fate
And it’s smiling at my Face!
I whistle because this minute’s perfect. I don’t know about the next minute to come, or the next after that, but if I whistle, I can hold on to this perfect minute and extend its life-spam.
Something seems to be whistling back at me. No, not something, more than one thing. The cars beeping angrily -ha haha why are these drivers angry?!- The birds telling each other stories about us humans, the Church Bells announcing yet another perfect wedding, and – of course- the smartphone getting messages.
I want to take my music somewhere with me, so I leave my pack of cigarettes behind, get my keys, and not even thinking about where I am off to, I start hoping happily along the corridor, to the stairs. Now this music is The Ticket.
I’m getting better at it. Passers by smile at me- not all of them- and a toddler has even grabbed my leg.
But, what I really want, is somebody to start whistling back at me. That’s the direction I will move towards!
If nobody whistles back to me by 5:00 PM, I shall come back to Reality and purchase a pack of cigarettes.