06 January 2009

Cramming

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>^..^<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three-o-five, A.M.
All are safe in slumber,
save myself.
A mechanical heartbeat
signifies the passage of time.
My typewriter fires
a hundred words per minute.
The television is a babbling brook
in the next room,
adding to the silence.
The over-lit house
holds its breath,
sleeping with both eyes open.
The still air stirs
not a leaf in the yard,
nor a fold in the curtain
at the open window.
The street a playground
for otherwise wary cats,
poses no present danger.
Across the street is another
bloodshot kitchen window.
So…I am not alone.

-James V. Watson, Jr.
11/94

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