The View From Here

From the bedroom of your apartment on West Gibson
Still tucked in under the black sheet
I notice the curtains on the window facing the street;
The sun (or street lamp) shines through the sheer pattern
Revealing one panel was hung upside down.
You’ve already left
To make bacon and eggs
Short stacks and flap jacks
Your mind getting lost
While your hands work the griddle
Wondering what’s next.
Coffee beckons
But this warm bed is winning.
I’ll stay a little longer
Examine the 12×12 ceiling tiles
Listen to the birdsong outside the back window
From the bedroom of your apartment on West Gibson.