lights off closed in my room on a thursday night taking comfort in the darkness like a blanket like security after a very trying day. noone on this floor knows how to shut a door and I can hear their voices travel down the hall. "insurance sales man..." bits and pieces of conversation spoken freely, and openly the word beer i can hear- here and there like an echo of a thought bouncing back and forth off of the closest being getting further away until its only a memory- on repeat like one of those corny television shows a marathon of the same thought played over and over... I think I'm over it. next comes a pounding on my door I step out for a moment Only to appease those that always try to lure me out But tonight I feel damp. I feel damp and heavy like i'm a cloud good and ready for a rain storm. and tonight its going to rain in Portland. So I think I'll stay in and just listen taking comfort that I am safe in my shelter and I will feel tomorrows warm breeze after I ease out of a long peaceful dream.
I don't know what it is about this poem, but something in it resonates with me. Also, I liked the phrase "word beer."
