At the bar. No smoking inside but you’d never know, there’s a fog obscuring the view. A woman on the other side stares my way. And it’s not the let-me-get-yo-numba kinda way. But I like the attention so I let her continue and flash my eyes her way just so she knows I know. Then I turn my back and wonder whether we’re gunna pull off moving warm water corals to the places where the cold water corals aren’t surviving. I look at all the top shelf bottles and wonder what half of them are. Did I take enough steps today? How do people own glass tables? Like glass legs and all. Then I wonder if Beethoven would be inspired by a glass table. This whole concept spirals into glass houses and The Door by E.B. White and people running into sliding glass doors knocking themselves right out. Maybe someday I’ll buy one just to stare at and contemplate over. Or write on and maybe I’ll see it enough to let all this go. All the wonder. Twisted into myself I tunnel my way to the bathroom. As I walk in there’s ol’ alpha eyes. The dentist that haunts me pulls at both my cheeks trying to see the molars on each side at the same time. I chuckle and sit on the toilet. Fuck I just sat on the toilet. I prepare my fiddling hands with toilet paper. Yes, yesterdays undies. I take a sniff. hmm… not too bad. It’s been more beefy. I wipe and tug up my drawers and at the sink I scrub real good. I like to think I wash my hands and wrists like a doctor. Grab paper towels dry my hands and use them to open the door then try and toss my paper towel in the bin inconveniently placed across the bathroom. Who does that?