He lays down lying in the middle of the road, arms straddling the dividing lines, a pillow has been added to his routine and his head sits loftily gazing downward on the sky. He counts the thoughts in his head, the unique thoughts, discriminating each into clusters of fruit, he’s hungry for a blueberry, his teeth slicing through the soft center of the universe, density never tasted so good. Several minutes pass before any indication of movement, a balance is restored to the world with the birth of potential, Zak sits up to observe the oncoming vehicle several blocks down the road, several blocks down the road is a pickup truck. The aggregation of ideas is had over a cigarette sparked well before the pickup truck passes him by, a thoughtful front porch with a reliable stoop is a well-behaved canine for every man and woman, child and grandchild, etc. and otherwise.
It is a time of bliss in the heartland unknown and unheard by most everyone while they sleep and dream of sweat sweat sweat to make a buck or two or three it’s four in the morning for the birds singing songs backing the various tracks criss-crossing through his head. It suddenly occurs to him that there is no better time to be aware. There has been no better time in his entire life for the time being, time being an unlikely predicament of various confluences, each bending and crashing into the other confusing him with its backward logic and leaps of faith. Time was, those were his best times, and those too were his best times, each time happening like the last until he forgot about the time they leapt off of the line leapt levitating levity and held it there to behold, a moment lost in time.
Tomorrow is today, but he still needs to sleep before he goes to work. Zak leaves his thoughts lingering and lightly dashes up the stairs. Each step he takes is a soundless bound, he covers flights of ground with such quickness and grace as to suggest a certain purpose. Purpose is a spool of floss and a toothbrush. The process employed to clean his teeth is lengthy and detailed, the room in which he performs his worship is redundant and borderline offensive. A ghastly circus red and white patterned wallpaper is adorned by cartoonish female elephants bathing themselves in large buckets full of water, it is floor to ceiling and on the ceiling. The dwarfish size of the room further accentuates the comical seriousness with which Zak swishes mouthwash. He spits and rinses.
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