Sunday, February 12, 2012

Written on the Job at Seattle Door and Window

Maw of Tomorrow

I don’t know what this new sun will bring Brad

I can’t read these tealeaves in my cup
They are scatter-shot up to the rim to that place
Where hot lips join smooth porcelain

“The future is not the fate we make
the future is the past
the past is now the now
the now just is…” Brad asserts

I’m living on the ledge smiling into the gaping maw of tomorrow

I can hear a trickle in the distance

It is dark

I drink

Dated Friday, February 12, 2010. This poem was composed on the Job at Seattle Door and Window in the morning around the time I got the news that the business owner had quit and we all had lost are jobs.

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