Stop Making Sense

Fantasising about finding a way to use language that doesn't make sense but still resonates. Because I suppose I get very tired of making sense, or trying to.

Strange driving to work in a white Ford Fiesta not mine, with a manual gearbox, having to dig in my brain for those old skills, left foot pressing clutch, left hand shifting gear stick, knowing when to, remembering to, when first, when second, when depress clutch, when lift it, when apply hand brake. Body tense, the drive twice as tiring.

Awake half the night. The strange white car. The strange place where my mother is now housed. Imagining arriving with white lilies, asking for a vase.