Sprawling,
Sunken into a satin cushion
One barefoot heel propped up on the ottoman
The other rubbing on the carpet
I sip my coffee.
Forenoon light shines through a high window.
June’s cotton snow drifts by.
Squirrel traffic jams a roadmap of branches
High up on the trees
Amusing me.
Life is good through a high window.
I need a high window to spare me from things,
Things I don’t want to see below.
Dirty kids, barefoot heels callused, stained, bruised.
Glinting Glocks, corpses in ditches,
Slumped forms sprawling in doorways,
Scared girls.
Ripped cotton jeans.
Illicit traffic jamming alleys.
The muffled noise is enough.
I don’t need to see
Things that sadden me.
Warm up my coffee. Please.
Life is good through a high window.