Wednesday, February 25, 2004
200 Word Wednesday: The Inside of a Day (or: things i wish i didn't have to write to you)
Hold the MOO juice glassUnder the still brewing coffee-maker
Pour with right, balance with left
Pot back in place, three quarters
Of an inch from the moo glass into
The travel mug like a well placed
Shot to get the morning started.
I do this at six thirty-five
You would never know
Slip on my coat, fish out keys
Keys in my mouth, walking to
The car where I sit and smoke
In the school parking lot, on the phone
With my mom who is talking
About restaurants and love in the
Noise of clanking forks and mumbling
I do this at eleven twenty
You would never know
Shirt up over my head
By the time I hit the third stair
Earrings trapped in sweater knit
Counting, twelve thirteen, right turn
Into the bedroom to find
Last night's t-shirt, fluff hair, sigh
Contemplate Oprah, napping, you
I do this at four o?clock
You would never know
Sit on the porch, head back
Eyes closed, cigarette lit with
Confiscated lighter, the wind is
Blowing one curl on to my eyelid,
There are dogs and cars and men
With Miller in brown paper sacks
Rain plopping from Magnolia leaves
I do this at nine, ten, eleven, etc.
You would never know.
Heather at 8:06 PM
