The Ledgerbooks Dreaming (Mid-December)

"I have a remarkable memory: I forget everything! It is wonderfully convenient."

The year has worn thin; has grown fat. Along richly appointed lakeside residential districts, motion sensors actuate. They pour light onto empty driveways. Wind scrapes the leaves from the pavement. Defoliate branches sigh and crackle; hold a few last wormridden fruits, former product, produce of defunct orchards, dropping dropwise onto midsized electric luxury sedans. A compost bin overturns with a thud. But inside the spreadsheets are tucked away safe. They need heed no nightly noises. Appreciation will continue apace. Making mint has become tranquil business. Insomnia can be outsourced. The rattle of a shopping cart, wheels jagged against the cobbled drive, will not disturb such restful accumulation.