its another day,
and i can't tell if i'm tired
or plainly eager.
woke up at 8:00
this morning, looked out
the window on to the porch
covered in snow.
beyond that was a jungle
of forest and neighborhood
covered in white wintry wonderland.
three birds split in either direction
over the house as Art Blakey
began squeeling Come Rain or Come Shine.
it was a most official wintry seattle suburb day.
Obama began talking on the Television and on the radio.
i took two showers and jacked off once.
bemused over an article on two twin poets who
were "making a mark in America."
and set the laundry to dry
as the top ramen in my pot boiled on high.
the three cats at my place
are three shades of gray
and with the most official look, lie around
and wander outside in offense of something.
i littered a mixed cigarette as i listened
to the voicemails left by Daniel on my cell phone.
he was recalling something i'd written him in a letter.
he was cracking up while reiterating what i'd written
about businessmen on airplanes - the air plaines from
new orleans to atlanta and to seattle.
i wrote that "business men, moustache business men,
and middle aged women wash down
their salt peanuts with light beer."
listening to daniel's
three voicemails over my letter i'd sent him
sent me in a bout of convulsive giggles.
and as we both laughed together
i noticed three birds split in either direction
over the house
as Art Blakey squeeled Come Rain or Come Shine.