I’m watching the roof soak up the rain my living room window kisses.
Buses sweep the ground in rapid thrushes at the foot of my bed.
Writing desk plays the role of a dining table when needed, and the
Sun is just moments away from alighting the colorful cave of the home
I built with pining strips of questioning.
Survival around the bend,
Success open to interpretation.
Sadly, not a hammock in sight.