You Should Eat Something

Have you seen the snow caked along the fence
in triangle fold napkin nubs
in the crooks of every single link
except the spots where dogs have walked,
sniffed, peed, and wagged with glee and
the little holes where birds have pipped
and popped up and down on the cold wire?

The garbage trucks didn't come.  Neither
did the mail.  It did - not for me.  The way I like it.
The cold was lovely and the air pressure
too low to really enjoy running around
with pinched nerves pinching again.  Toss snowballs
regardless, shaped like saucers to fly farther
and knock miniature lengths of frosty walls
off of the power lines overhead to the  walks below.

Pain is tiresome.  Or am I tired because I haven't eaten?
Or am I tired because I laid down
instead of sitting up to read the news?
Or am I tired because I read the news?
Or am I tired because I ate too much last night?
Or am I tired because it is, after all, Winter again?
Or am I tired because it will be 55 degrees tomorrow?
Or am I tired because I will eat too much?
Or am I tired because I don't want to eat and must?
Or am I tired because I cannot do it today
and must?  You should eat something.

I know.  Have you seen the snow outside?
A cup of tea would be stellar in this cold
that is impossible to acclimate to.  By the way,
have you seen the snow on the fire escape
nearly an inch thick with paw prints
tracked through in black circles of circles?
It is lovely.  A cup of tea would be stellar,
thank you.  You should eat something.

Creature of the Night

Voicemail.  Voicemail.  Sneeze.  Rise. Yawn.
Stretch.  Head and tail lights turn as they should.
The lunch rush.  The get home.  The day shift
and graveyarders.  The drones and kid linked.
The zombies with too many chemicals inside.
The walkers and dog folk.  The joggers. The fit.
The teens and cutting classes and the crack
slippers.  The up to late and the never slept.
The sleepers and the ambitious.  The gray and
car pooled.  The stay at homes and the young
at heart and the "why am I here"'s.  The juke
boxers and fire drillers and the gamers too.
The nature watchers and the camera quest
head firsters.  The old song and dancers and the
ragers.  The kleptomaniacs and the negotiators.
Voicemail.  Voicemail.  Cough.  Rise.  Yawn.
Oh what a happy day.  The stars are almost up,
Sol not entirely gone.  Somewhere up there
I do believe
the moon is
doing its thang.
Plenty of time
to shower
and polish my teeth.
There is a big day ahead of us.
Have the decency
to smile with a little sunshine when you speak.