A poem from the summer

A poem from this summer

The couch
Strands of water and a white hair
Noisily falling into my lap as I draw
My fingernails will soon be rid of their polish
And my neck has taken on its rosy hue of summertime.
New friends, old friends, lost friends
Choice in my hands, the familiar unfamiliar
And the unfamiliar familiar.
Busqueing for a few bucks
as the twilight sets in
and talent, he says. Harmony, she says.
Wake up, teal shirt. Trivia game and a ticking watch.
Blue plastic, marking the sections of my life
and I play around with them,
make them go slightly faster, slightly slower,
with not much success.
In this for me? For the white hair?
                      The teal shirt?
                                 The watch?
                                                The blue pen?
                                                            I watch it.

June 26-27, 2011