I love that bit right before sleep where my body’s glistening numbness, and even a thought at lifting my arm to scratch my neck or lift the blanket for my dog–who is proficient at burrowing when I’m not home. My eyes drop like bowling lane *things* jostling and straightening my pin eyes. My dog presses his back against mine and stretches, and I flutteringly wonder if he’s sizing me up like a boa. I suppose if I die first he’ll eat me for lack of a better meal, I’m glad to know he’ll be taken care of, in that sense. I would hope my best friend would take him in after he’d ingested a bit of me, but he hasn’t forgiven him for peeing in his mouth. It’s okay to laugh at that, as long as you don’t mind being targeted next. Just pretend it’s lemonade, left a little too long in the sun at a child’s stand.