the hours here are lazy
the minutes pass one second at a time.
i watch them – slow designations
on a digital screen, taunting.
outside, a day awakes to rising sounds of traffic
to birds on trees and rooftops
to nostalgic scents of coffee, trash, and gasoline.
north of here, dark mountains silhouette the sky
southward yawns the city, grey and blinking.
Phoenix will swallow this windless day whole:
Phoenix, the incarnate mirage.
outside, Time is an effortless sun
outside, the whole world is consumed.
outside, your skin grows wet with potential
inside, these walls halt the sky.
Time is reduced to a clock.
the boots on my feet weigh me down.
the air is thick with oil.