Perpetual Left

I have been sent from my new sleep chamber to a far Northern galaxy. This latest mission is met with much apprehension as my shiny unconscious platform configuration leaves me craving it every time I blink. This blink pattern is something I am not accustomed to and each time I close a lid I have to voluntarily open it after .09 milliseconds. Sometimes, when there is much to process at once I will close and open in a rhythmic fashion, much like an indicator on the backside of a clunky grey caprice classic. This is but an infinitesimal nuisance compared to the challenges I face every waking flash. The alarm sounds and I am sucked out of my lucid movie….It’s a rerun of “the tornado” playing at the drive-thru in my database. The funnel jumps out of the screen and pulls the sound posts straight out of the ground. Right before it sweeps me up I am grabbed by my legs and yanked out of my unconscious lime colored convertible into wake mode. I clutch my bed sheet and the both of us end up detached and frazzled on the floor. “You win…I am here.” Next time the tornado will devour me and I wonder if the consciousness police will be able to find me. I imagine they will (they always will) on top of a tree with a macaw perched on my shoulder. We’ll both be humming, reading a rummaged newspaper article that has smacked against my cheek…and we’ll both be wearing fake handlebar mustaches and faker looks of indifference so as not to be discovered.