I awoke to the strangest noise I had ever heard. A peculiar aroma hung thick in the morning air and slapped my naked back as I walked over to the shower. I stuck my arm out but paused, swayed uncertainly for a few moments, and decided I was better off dirty. I liked having the remains of the beach on my skin. There will be plenty of time for soap in the future.
I fell asleep last night unsure of who I was or who I wanted to be. This was nothing new. My dreams were scattered, relevant, but scattered… A dog chased me down my uncle’s driveway making funny noises as pebbles snuck inside the crevices of my sandals. The villagers drank their boxes of wine, grinning at me with purple teeth and glass eyes. A small woman with cinnamon hair handed me a glass of warm milk. I hate warm milk. I began to miss home; my east coast women, my bedroom, my cold milk. A drunk man popped out of the bushes, yelling, waving his arms in the air like a gorilla. I didn’t make eye contact but I understood him. I can relate to bizarre people like that, I just wish they would leave me alone. The man vanished and my uncle appeared smoking a cigar. I liked my uncle very much. We both had those sad poet eyes. I wish I was a poet. Quickly he pointed to a rattlesnake crossing the road behind me. By the time I looked the snake had slithered into the brush and out of sight. I felt like doing the same thing. I turned back around and holes the size of baseball diamonds were forming in the asphalt spewing blood as my heart cried like a volcano. I compressed the vomit forming in the back of my throat and heard a roar in the distance. Something in the jungle was hungry.
The rest of the morning contained petty conversation and a few pieces of toast. Both were nice.