Every Day’s The Same

It is dark, but not quiet. Window curtains hang,
only hang, and an alarm will not quiet
itself. I rise, I push it silent, stumble on mess,
grope for light. It floods the room like too
much water. Once, it was otherwise.

Noon, and I eat alone. Grape Nuts
crack between my teeth like guns.
I flick yesterday’s crumbs across
the table. On my way out there is fog
on the windshield and I smack a mailbox. Once,

it was otherwise. The bed is cold, mean. Tomorrow
hangs on windows; a sticky cereal bowl, an unmade
bed. I wish it were otherwise.
itself. I rise, I push it silent, stumble on mess,
grope for light. It floods the room like too
much water. Once, it was otherwise.

Noon, and I eat alone. Grape Nuts
crack between my teeth like guns.
I flick yesterday’s crumbs across
the table. On my way out there is fog
on the windshield and I smack a mailbox. Once,

it was otherwise. The bed is cold, mean. Tomorrow
hangs on windows; a sticky cereal bowl, an unmade
bed. I wish it were otherwise.