I would love a dull moment.

The kind focused on fishing a gnat from between translucent ice cubes melting into lemonade...

When the loudest cries are from seagulls over the Thames.

A dull moment, when cigarette ashes roll lazily over flower-potted dirt, ashes gently falling from an ignored butt, barely held between two damp fingers...

When the only argument is between two squirrels on a roof ledge.

A dull moment, when my toes escape shoe's confinement, rest on iron railing and spread like fans to shiver from spring breezes...

When the only fighting is between the cushion melded to my ass, my poor posture, and the laws of gravity sliding me off the garden chair.

I would love a dull moment.

The kind when pen marries paper and creates a river of words...

When the only pounding tattooed on my heart comes from the bass notes of Harleys on Eugene O'Neill Drive...

A moment when unanswerable questions are heard...

I would love a dull moment.