Paul’s mind slipped.
It fell backwards and landed hard on the ground.
Fortunately it missed the rake under the fallen leaves.
Paul looked around a bit disoriented.
He spotted his mind on the ground.
He gave it a hand up.
Dazed, Paul’s mind started to walk off.
Paul followed after it.
He could not close the gap.
His mind retreated into a coffee shop.
A pleasant coincidence since he was headed
to that same coffee shop. His mind ordered coffee. Black.
He ordered a vanilla flavored Italian soda.
They looked around at all the young people in the coffee shop.
The young paid them no heed.
Paul’s mind wondered if heed replaced dollars for currency.
Paul reached over and pulled his mind across the table,
knocking over the cup of coffee.
Although it happened quite quickly,
the stuffing of Paul’s mind back into his head
seemed painfully slow.
Paul looked at the busboy with the mop.
Paul knew he knew the lad,
but could not think of his name.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
