quiet and white
not particularly bright
as dawn threatens to break the twilight

at this hour the only sounds are
distant winds, melting icicles,
and cats
knocking keys off the table

nervous travelers are pursued by
diesel beasts, weighted
with forward momentum

lazy salesmen dream of better days
as forgotten telephones
refuse to ring
and the outside world fades into
seasonal obscurity

lazily, we move down the hall
as the furnace belches it’s oily routine
the cold calls to fire

i was denied once again
like a comic, cosmic anti-hero
too much white
i need a little black
so, i’ll think i’ll just sit here
in my pajamas, smoking a cigarette,
with this immortal kitten
resting my lap
typing unimportant words
as i wait for signs of life

if only everyday
could be this simple