Downstairs Room
I should get up
and find function,
but the town
hasn’t moved,
not since beer-dippers
passed at eleven.
No commute traffic,
to shine bezier curves,
across this dark room.
An autobiography,
pre-browser histories,
as I fell back into
that re-rattled sleep.
One night, unfolded,
sofa bed stiff;
lost lives here,
inside this room.