I got hit hard
again yesterday.
Knocked on my ass
by a reveberating drumbeat
pulsing in my left temple,
"what the %^&* is going on?"
my mind cried. Granted, I didn't sleep well
the night before, a late night spent gettin'
my groove back on as well as tapping back into my
favorite of dances (partner dancing!) and then, fitfully
sleeping on a giant bean bag in my best friend's newest
Carlsbad studio. But, two near migraines twice in one week is too much.
Again, laid out horizontally way too early, I contemplated
what external shifts were taking place to create such disruption within me.
I then realized, with a quick breath in, "Ah!
I am going through withdrawals." Nearly four weeks spent drinking
Arabic coffee, the thick, black sludge taken without any sweet or liquid enhancers,
apparently takes its toll. It's ironic. Together, we would chuckle at the American way of coffee
on the run, as we sat slowly enjoying small sips and vibrant conversation.
Sometimes, R. would roll a diverse cigarette to go along with our morning reverie and I
luxuriated in how some of my tastes, like these, I prefer to be "European."
Yet, this obviously isn't gentle, either.
When I last spoke to him, he said, "It's cool - you're having many different experiences that you can
take and create from as you build forward."
Perhaps, I'll turn towards the eastern way of tea ceremony next.
Just as soon as I kick these withdrawals....
