Friday, June 25, 2010

week end

You sit with no lights on.
The city hums. Not to you,
but to no one and
everyone here. The day's
small talk is done with,
and you're thinking about sleep,
sleep is on your mind.
Not small talk. You can only
take so much workplace
banter, even if it's all right.
A day skipping over the
surface takes more.
More than you thought.
Now only the night speaks,
the lights sparkle slightly,
the fridge sighs, the fan
squeaks. The one roommate
is asleep. You wait for
a couple more seconds,
think about a smoke,
but simply closing the
eyes sounds like
real pleasure, almost
like hope itself. You smile.
How simple hope is
at this hour, and how
utterly uncomplicated.
The old monks said:
Go to sleep before witching-hour.
But you're too tired for
witching or even wishing
for much, other than sleep,
maybe a sandwich, or a
good night kiss. But you're alone
and too tired for witching,
so you smile, listening
to the soft static hiss.
The city hums,
the lights sparkle.
You'll probably even forget
to brush your teeth.

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