deepundergroundpoetry.com
Territory
The naked wind hisses its territory
as I smoke outside.
Warm coffee, bitter and free
due to a frozen pipe lays waiting inside.
Reading Sherlock Holmes grows tiring
and even the excitement of being four pages from the end…
and the staccato female voice over the
speaker reminds me of Josh.
As my body warms, my mind numbs
and my coffee is now too chill to drink.
Though I don’t really want it anymore,
at least it would be something to do.
My car idles outside thirty-three hours away
covered in a pile of snow
anxiously waiting for me to pull $850 out of my ass
to get it shipped.
Until then my time out of home will be
spent in coffee shops, sipping drip coffee,
(“It’s better than this usually, I swear”)
listening to staccato female voices,
and hissing back at the wind.
as I smoke outside.
Warm coffee, bitter and free
due to a frozen pipe lays waiting inside.
Reading Sherlock Holmes grows tiring
and even the excitement of being four pages from the end…
and the staccato female voice over the
speaker reminds me of Josh.
As my body warms, my mind numbs
and my coffee is now too chill to drink.
Though I don’t really want it anymore,
at least it would be something to do.
My car idles outside thirty-three hours away
covered in a pile of snow
anxiously waiting for me to pull $850 out of my ass
to get it shipped.
Until then my time out of home will be
spent in coffee shops, sipping drip coffee,
(“It’s better than this usually, I swear”)
listening to staccato female voices,
and hissing back at the wind.
Published 21st Jan 2010
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