WORK DAY ENDS

The work day leaves around me.

I do not share the rush to cars or beers or childcare pickup.

I do not need to slice the everyday’s hot cord

that doesn’t fuel my energy, my need

to prove I can - mostly to myself.

I let the walker-talkers move

somewhat shy of stampede down halls

too long for anything but gale-strong drafts,

up hills too steep for anything but long-haul burros.

 

Quietness gathers, piles cotton batting

‘round my slow motion motives,

has me sit and buckle down to stand

the back draft spanking rising carpet soon as

last one lets the door swing solid shut

behind her.

 

Just wait. Breeze cools my face, has me cough

dust from their leaving.

Who shuts the lights once I am gone?

Not curious enough to wait and see,

spurious enough to wait around

and feel the walls smile, see the air conditioner

spit sigh, “They’ve gone.”

 

I am not tempted by what I might find

in back corners of bottom drawers.

Lights stay on.

 

©Timothy Wright

11/20/2014