There is No Moral to My Story (Only Coffee)

by Charlotte E. Wilde

It was one of those nights. My jaw, having marched miles only to steal what little sleep it could find in some abandoned hayloft or another, wakes up stiff and aching from the unforgiving circumstances under which it was forced to chase its dreams.

Enervated, like arms and shoulders on the day after thousands of thistles are pulled from hay-fields in Kentucky August heat.

Drowsy, like the math of 9 miles run, 1 slice of pumpkin cheesecake, a 3-finger yogurt glass of Four Roses (for old times sake), and 2 leg sized logs thrown haphazard into flames.

Drained, like sleeping pills that leave limbs too slow and heavy to catch the brain as it screeches out into the night with squealing tires and an audible “fuck you” tossed over its left shoulder like somuch spilled salt.

Weary, like the mechanical seduction of a methodic blinking— that light on your computer that winks you into the tiny hours of lazy morning light, sliding sneakily through blinds that “come with the apartment” but don’t really work.

Fatigued, like the stream of metaphors you begin to tick off and line up like tin soldiers to defend your honor to the following day’s activities:

1. Brain like a neon-glow 24-7 diner sign, flickering. [2:34am]

2. Brain like Friday-night pinball in the back of a bowling alley. [3:41am]

3. Brain like moths furiously beating wings into porch lamps. [4:13am]

4. Brain like the purr of a tiny heart (1,260 beats per minute). [5:51am]

5. Brain like a…

It was one of those nights where nary a cheap metaphor could champion your 7 am. No oversize carnival prizes reluctantly given for sharp shooting skills in a bucket of fish, no on-the-ropes boxing jabs to save the score and get the girl, no token kiss-smudged handkerchief offered to those sweat-soaked sheets.

One of those nights that bequeathed nothing but lassitude and an aching jaw clamoring blindly for coffee and a second chance to rue-the-day.

It just was one of those nights… and it would most certainly be one of those mornings.