The duplex I've lived in for four year single
feels typical on a slow Sunday morning,
the low buzzing of hair clippers echoes in from the bathroom
where my roommate cuts his little brother's hair,
who’s been staying with us a for a day or two,
causal mentions of, "Hold still" or "Maybe you can style it like this"
weave in and out of the humming blades...
I hear them from the floor of my room
where I am splayed out on my back
one foot on the old pine bunk bed frame,
one toe stretching out for a cool wall
pillows and blankets piled behind by head
and eyes lazily wandering around the August issue of Vogue
surface diving in a mystery world that attracted my wandering curiosity
enough for a 6-month subscription for $10,
wearing yesterday's shorts and an apron that I made with an old girlfriend
taking a temporary break from the Brioche that's rising on the counter.
The chirping birds, bathroom fan, and dinging dryer bell break the surface tension of the silence,
and we settle into peace
And as my breath slows and a mid morning nap tickles my nose
I breathe deeper, wondering...
In three weeks the place will be empty.
All past and present roommates gone,
one is a commercial airline pilot traveling the world,
one has been married for years, though I still see him at a skate park once a week,
one writes poetry and has a puppy named Argos.
The baby brother barber will be married in a month...
And I'll find a new house somewhere.
Smiling, I wink at eternity before closing my eyes.
welcoming that nap with a laugh like an old friend.
