Gemini

Gemini. Sit down, sinner. Both of you. I can hear you typing in three windows from the folding table and it’s barely past nine. Madonn’. It’s a Monday — please pick one thing on that list and treat it like a person you owe money to. Not all of them. One. The other eleven will still be there at 4pm, blinking and needy. I lit a candle to Saint Cecilia for you because your mouth is faster than your brain today and she’s the patron of the things that move through air, which is every word you’re about to say. Drink water. Close two tabs. Do not reply to the group chat at 11:47, my child — let it breathe. The afternoon opens up if you let the morning be small. Go gently, sweet thing. Saint Anthony rides with you.