Today I wake up
to the squeals of
little children
counting beats in
Italian,
singing rhymes that
I do not know the meaning of
Outside the window.
The construction
below my bed, drilling holes underneath me.
I used to stomp and
jump in anger
But today I lie
listening to the familiar buzz
My roommate's alarm
squawking for an hour
And she is still
asleep.
The constant
repetition is somehow soothing today.
The tiles are cool
against the morning heat
Cold feet beneath my
sweaty head
Running water
fluctuates in bursts
from copper metal
faucet
Its smooth stillness
slipping through my fingers.
Breeze blowing in
through the open windows
Dust and leaves
scamper in
Covering the
footsteps of my trail
Toast in a pan from
leftover bread
Crisp crunch on one
side
Burnt black on the
other
Flakes like ashes
falling off the plate
Crumbling down in
capitulation
Stale coarse
breakfast made edible
By a packet of
nutella
Smoked meat on the
stairways
Why are you smoking
meat at 9am?
The rotten shrimp,
cheese, strawberries, pesto
Diffusing my
apartment-mates from inside the fridge.
But the fridge is
empty today.
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