11:16 PM

npr drones on. The dryer
tumbles the last load of wet clothes. Click. Hum.
The overhead fan cools my bare arm. 
My leg aches. Will it stop so I can work or do I need a new way to work. One 
thing, I need to get off this phone. 
Sleep.

One thought on “11:16 PM”

  1. Your poem aptly sums up my typical day — except my line would be “I need to get off the Internet.” Then sleep.

    Like

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