when I woke up, not for real but that first, still-drunk awaking that arrives when the light comes in and lasts for about as long as a dream, I saw a bird through the window. I didn’t have my glasses—they were on my boyfriend’s desk; I was sleeping at his apartment—and my first thought, looking at the bird, was: I should get up and get my glasses, so I can see what kind of bird this is, so if I want to use this moment in an essay later, then I can name it.
this morning,
this morning,
this morning,
when I woke up, not for real but that first, still-drunk awaking that arrives when the light comes in and lasts for about as long as a dream, I saw a bird through the window. I didn’t have my glasses—they were on my boyfriend’s desk; I was sleeping at his apartment—and my first thought, looking at the bird, was: I should get up and get my glasses, so I can see what kind of bird this is, so if I want to use this moment in an essay later, then I can name it.