Getting to What is Next

What do you do when you wake up on a day where the air smells like caramelized sugar.
And no one else smells it.

I can smell it next to my house (and my car).
I can smell it next to my work (a mile away and next to my car).

I can smell it after the car leaves to take my love to school.

When the air smells like caramelized sugar, you know something is going to happen.
The environment tries to get your attention. Like when the wind doesn’t blow in Illinois.

Something isn’t right. Better: something isn’t normal. Is it better.

Is it better when the air smells of caramelized sugar and the wind doesn’t blow. When the water tastes pure
And isn’t brown with dying corn and soybean crops. Crops dying to give themselves up to shoddy, overbearing structures.

It is a surprisingly easy thing to give yourself up to shoddy, overbearing structures.

It speaks to a personality trait of which I am not proud. The world says my name and I ask if I will die today.
Will I die today. Always what can I avoid. What can I be safe from. What can I not learn.

Never, what’s next?

When the air smells like caramelized sugar, the scent is pleasing and sweet. Happy. Tomorrow will smell like
Espresso with thick crema. Seductive and amorphic chocolate.

Twenty minutes to type this line. It is such a heavy thing.

What is next?

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