A Reading

No one normally lives in your living room
No one normal lives here
You're sitting here today, a holiday, trying to read
The second job starts in a couple of hours
The alternator needs replacing and you're hoping
The car will generate the electricity needed to deliver you
To the eight and a half hours that will cover it.

Distracted, you stop to vacuum the rug noticing an inch of grime
On the wooden window sill, open a beer, feel your belly
Sitting there when you sit back down where it didn't used to be,
Your ass is flattening too, gluteus minimus, maybe you ought to walk
Up some hills, do some mule kicks or something
Get back to the book: someone talking about a woman
The character walks thirty miles every week for.

A friend to his mind...
Thinking of this, the tugging of yearn
And then you get stuck on a sound
Drip drip, drip drip, drip drip, drip drip - uniform
Cadence, a metronome of distraction, so
You leave the book on the arm of the chair
The asshole's shitty dog wrecked

The kitchen faucet is not the offender at all
It's the solar-powered plastic daisy potted on the window sill
Where she placed it, waving its butterfly hands cheerfully,
After assessing the potential for sunlight exposure carefully,
The day she said you'd lost your brilliance and put up a bird feeder
And moved a few things in and, for a time, wore the soft eyes
Of said friend.