everybody needs a bosom for a pillow

puppies play a complicated game of twister in search of the perfect pocket of warmth. as soon as they find it, they fall asleep. it doesn't matter if they're almost upside down and have someone's bottom pressed to their nose. sleep swallows them in a smooth gulp. you could watch them all day. eight of them. precious preemies too. they dream of milk, their tongues curled around an invisible teat, their paws marking slow circles in the air.

sometimes the mother will sit by me and watch them too. she isn't motivated by sentiment, i'm sure. so it must be something like concern. anyone pee or have the runs? any licking required? any bees or wasps around? no? ok, my work here is done. see you guys around.

i wish i could be as charmingly detached.

some people say they have vivid memories of being in the womb. maybe they don't really. perhaps they just have a very real idea of what it must feel like. which might suggest a very real urge to revisit. and not leave. wishful thinking really. in times of stress, imagine you're in the womb. fed on blood, clothed in membrane, sung to sleep by a heartbeat. a body wrapped around your every need. such complete convenience.

perhaps some people just wish more vividly than others. so vividly in fact that the wish is imbibed by the body. the want absorbed. a daydream doesn't occur in a bubble overhead, it shudders in the marrow. a fantasy isn't created, it's remembered.