And my apartment is roasting and I’m still in bed with two fans aimed towards me and a very hot kitty named Opal is snoring at the foot of the bed. All that to say, in long form, that I’m lazy today. On Saturday I worked at the library and did some original cataloging in Dewey and spent quite a bit of time sweltering in the upstairs stacks measuring shelves for some collection moves and then went to a cookout for the rest of the day/night. Yesterday I scared myself awake before 9am and had a ridiculously productive errand running day for a holiday weekend. So, today…nothing until the apartment becomes too unbearable or its time to head out for street meat and fireworks. Keeping that in mind, I’m lazy blogging today, too. Here’s another really old poem. Note: I am no longer a smoker and do not encourage the act of inhaling cancer.

Morning

The soft whir of the ceiling fan

Moves my hair across my face.

I get up and stumble

Past the piles of books

Stacked haphazardly in front of my windows.

Before you, I never drank coffee.

Now the milk swirls into

A creamy caramel color.

Outside, the cigarette smoke curls

Past my long fingertips

Into the early morning light.

We sat here once,

Leaning against each other,

Taking in the weak sunlight

Of a late fall morning.

You kissed my forehead,

And told me you loved me.

Now, my cat Puck, follows me back,

Back into the house and

Perches precariously on the sink

As I shower.

He sings me a song

Of lonesome meows.

I pick wet green leaves

Off the trunk of my car

As I leave.