Lay down your laptop. Forget language for now. Settle into another of your masterpieces: just yourself. Listen, crickets! Far from carefree, but we can pretend. A last cicada hums as the evening grays into night. [forget that it will probably die tomorrow, tonight]. Your neighbor turns on the TV to something-something reality. Haha, yes. Smirk with me! But close the window closest to his, anyway. Your own house lies silent. Perhaps feel your face and remember what you’ve become. No peeking! Save any mirror-dissatisfaction in yourself till morning when the birds rise and chirp and you want to cover your eyes and smother a bird or ten with your pillow. Nothing sounds more appealing than squealing as that laptop flies, then, and let the birds serenade the junk—
Oh, yes, but feel good now! Please!