i once was hot but now i jitter

Earlier a visual memory came to me: when I was a little girl, at the grocery store with my mom, I wandered away. She looked up and down aisles for me and finally located me lying down in the freezer where the frozen pizzas were kept. "I was hot," I told her.

Frenetic-thought day, pictures and booms, and then quick inner-visual show about blood pressure running to the sound of accordions and a mouse occurred, and a wonder about sickness of no specific sort. The bathrooms here are not clean and that can’t help the sickness.

It would be a whole different world if we began each of our words with a z. Zand zthen zI zsaid zto zher, zbite zme. It would be a whole world different if none of us had noses. This possibility has been visiting me for the past 15 years.

I hope universal nose-loss doesn’t ever happen because it creeps me out as much as plastic mechanical toys that sing and dance.

There is no theme here but bad coffee jitters and a stack child-high of manuscripts on circadian rhythm, and an accordion that continues to loop storyward partially eastward, and gravel.