How I've been spending my days

Moored in my bed, legs lost in a tangle of sheets. Watching bands of light and shadow flicker across the ceiling with that curious sense of consciousness that comes from pseudophedrine, where everything is leached of color and shape. A sea of tissues and cough drop wrappers cover the floor, and glasses half full of water are staged on every surface.

All the heirloom tomatoes and leafy greens and poblano peppers are slowly wilting and rotting as I eat macaroni and cheese from a blue box and guzzle Tropicana. I think the most nutritious thing I’ve eaten is a poached egg on buttered white toast.

But in my waking moments I’ve devoured a book and learned the patterns of the pigeons wheeling outside my window.