Here from My Place in the Chair

it’s the sound
of a fan
on a stand
four feet off
the ground
wagging its head
first this way
then that way
sweeping cool air
in impermanent
linear gaspings
across the
living room space.

it’s the middle
of the day
with
the curtains
drawn
deep red
against the bleeding
impetuous sun
against the
crawling
day.

sometimes it’s
impossible
to know
what time it is or
what day
even
without
consulting
a clock or a
watch or
a cell
phone, and
most of the time
seated or stretched
like sweaty cables
across the bed
of your room
it doesn’t
matter.

today, though, you’re
clean – showered
and dressed
and
ready to
open doors
swallow the heat
roar at the sky and
passing hours.
barefoot
you take
six steps
to the garage
passing the fan
passing the emptiness
passing the cool
dark rooms.

as it
rattles
its ascent
the garage door
gapes in awe
at the sun
at the day
and at you.

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2 thoughts on “Here from My Place in the Chair

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