Mornings

I want to build a bed that when the alarm rings dumps you onto the side street by your house, along with whatever you had ready to go that day, a backpack with food, a laptop, a book, some clothes... Whatever is necessary. This way you can be out of you time-lagged house bubble in zero to negative time, waking up already in the real world, in current city pace time, no room to consolidate nightmares and dreams, to sort out emotions, to tinker around with french presses. The era of big government demands your contribution, so you can settle for truck-stop coffee... Today... And every other day, whenever those days come. But when you get dumped, the future doesn't exist, neither does the past, and you are glad.