Peanut Butter

By Dorothy Rice

November 23, 2015

Peanut Butter

What was that feeling last night, of chasing a thread of thought from sleep to wakefulness, back into sleep again, not quite sure at any moment whether I was fully awake or fully asleep and only knowing when I got up to use the restroom and perhaps not even then and what was I doing, trying to string some thoughts together, lines of an essay, a poem, was I really and did it make sense at all, for now all I remember is peanut butter, the taste, the feel of it in my mouth, as a paste, a binder, literally and also in life, holding things together, and I remember saying to my night self, self, you should remember this, you should write this down, but it was 1:30 when I peered at the clock and then 2:30 when I peered again and I didn’t write it down and now it is gone or was never there at all and what stuck is the peanut butter, the sense that it was important, but also the least of it as I chased words, phrases around and around and then reflected, in my sleep, or half sleep, but what is it about, surely not peanut butter, which is only the metaphor, the trigger, the something, yet it’s all that remains and perhaps I was only craving some peanut butter and what more can, should, be said about peanut butter when it, or anything, keeps you up at night.


Photo "Peanut Butter" provided by Denise Krebs, via creative commons license.

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