View From My Window
Winter Falling On Cedar
Bright winter morning, the snow flies,
sticking on fir trees and windshields. I trudge
through miles of winterland and open the door
to my automobile; it is too cold to start. I trip in
the doorway as I go back inside the house, take off
my hat and coat, and call for a taxi. The taxi is late;
then he calls me fifteen minutes after I'm supposed
to be at work and says, "I can't make it, I'm stuck in the
driveway," with me knowing all the while he is not
stuck in a driveway, frantic to get to his customer. I know,
at this hour, he has better things to do:
he is at home sipping a brandy in his Spiderman
pajamas, watching "The Early Morning Show."
-Published previously in "Word Riot," 2003
sticking on fir trees and windshields. I trudge
through miles of winterland and open the door
to my automobile; it is too cold to start. I trip in
the doorway as I go back inside the house, take off
my hat and coat, and call for a taxi. The taxi is late;
then he calls me fifteen minutes after I'm supposed
to be at work and says, "I can't make it, I'm stuck in the
driveway," with me knowing all the while he is not
stuck in a driveway, frantic to get to his customer. I know,
at this hour, he has better things to do:
he is at home sipping a brandy in his Spiderman
pajamas, watching "The Early Morning Show."
-Published previously in "Word Riot," 2003
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Winter Falling On Cedar
Winter Falling On Cedar
