On to it...
The most recent infestation of "Soon" was over cooking/washing dishes last night. The next morning, the haunting, wordless "ning-ning/ning-ning" chorus break washed over me in my morning paperwork slot.
Man.
That shit is like a huge cigarette puff just walking leisurely out of my lungs, strolling devil-may-care up my trachea and esophagus. Past the larynx...the pressure differential here starts to quicken its exuent (sp?) and it's near my teeth. Serpentine tendrils merge to whitegrey cotton and escape in a crowd that suddenly finds itself leaderless. Loops and whorls form, completing the solution of some long and laborious obscene calculus.
The smokecloud passes my blissed-out but ultimately bored face, leaning against a wall or couchback or futon or something until the singing-- obscurred and buried like pixellated or solarized softcore cable porn on a station you don't get-- kicks in and I breathe the last of the smoke more forcefully...
"Cigarette" smoke.
Right.
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