Saturday Etude

Saturday Etude

A listless Saturday

Six etudes tumbling downward

Friday I ran with momentum in the blazing light

the sun flashing along the waterway

the day before the sky changed

forty days and forty nights I am warned

but Saturday is only a drizzle not a downpour

and I recline in a fog flat and gray

the skillet is not sizzling, the floor goes untouched, my bed is my office

while Glass’s piano moves me steadily downstairs

through a house I never owned

and at the bottom of the stairs I stand on the dark cherry wood and plush carpet

there is a man and a glass of red wine

while the rain plays on the windows outside

in reality the house is empty and I am left holding the glass

never having liked red wine and even in this reverie I stand alone

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