it's another early morning here on Beaudry St. the toilet downstairs is still running. its high-pitched, hollow tone a distracting drone as i brush my teeth and look out into the courtyard below. suki winds herself up around my feet and ankles, fussing and meowing, as if it's possible that i haven't already noticed her. she hates to see the bottom of her bowl.
the hot water from my shower slowly fills the washroom with steam, turning in slow whorls that fall slowly out the window to blend in with the world of air outside. there is no breeze. the mist curls and falls like blankets, but dissappears before it ever hits the concrete below.
the front gate swings out with the same familliar song, clicking shut twelve steps behind me with a distant double snap. the sky tries on its uniform of turned-off-tv grey, the song "Eligy for Elizabet" cues up in my head. another morning here on Beaudry St. i hate to see the bottom of my bowl.
the hot water from my shower slowly fills the washroom with steam, turning in slow whorls that fall slowly out the window to blend in with the world of air outside. there is no breeze. the mist curls and falls like blankets, but dissappears before it ever hits the concrete below.
the front gate swings out with the same familliar song, clicking shut twelve steps behind me with a distant double snap. the sky tries on its uniform of turned-off-tv grey, the song "Eligy for Elizabet" cues up in my head. another morning here on Beaudry St. i hate to see the bottom of my bowl.
P.S. I'd better not be ousted from Loftiest of Lofty Positions when I get back