poem of the day 03.17.11

sugar bowl

watching the rain
the dead cars
on dead streets

like wet ducks

the neighbor upstairs
her bed creaks

then

bounce bounce bounce

a new fantasy
or a new man?

fourteen minutes after
seven o’clock in the morning
and my wife is still asleep

i sit on the couch
with a hangover

listening to the morning d.j.

the patter of rain
on the pavement

catch my reflection in the mirror

i am
the cable bill
the internet bill
meat cooked at 350 degrees
four scotches before bed
and a succession of bad jobs

a man in need of a cup of coffee

wondering where it was
that i put the sugar bowl
last night.