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Though it’s only 8PM still too early to call it a night with a load of laundry half done and lunch still to make he strips to T-shirt and under
shorts turns the light off slips into bed pulling the sheets above his shoulders Only for an hour he tells himself already drowsing in this temporary womb’s
welcome security away from the workday’s
madness sure to continue with the next
sunrise he pulls the second pillow down
inside the covers close to his back then pressed to the contours of
chest and abdomen allowing his body heat to complete
the process Talk radio plays low on the night
stand beside him the war in Iraq Internet spam and a possible pandemic discussed
in detail seem small potatoes compared to his own immediate
worries
Though supper was a success the bills are paid garbage is ready at the front door for tomorrow’s pickup he contemplates the nights growing
longer and the steady approach of another
Winter with no one to snuggle beside him © 2004 Chris Sorrenti |