30/30: Murder Television On the Brink of Sleep

Where do the buzzdings
of my
phone

end
and
yours begin?

Out in the kitchen,
leggings and green
beans and rich,
sour coffee.

In the bathroom with
skin cream and torn
jeans.

Night I had nightmares

about the shows
we were watching

and other things that
blur into a wheatpaste

of images and ideas, the
past ten years through

brownout glasses,
the back of head rush
before the tears start.

Where do my
loose hairs
start
and yours
end?

Somewhere in the vicinity
of purple.

Waking up and shaking off
in covers and
sleepy jokes
and that moment
when the arm that fell asleep
also wakes, pulls in.

25/30! Gunmetal Grey!

of the options, black and grey
like a gun, the sales clerk said
seemed least likely to attract
attention or seem gaudy.

I can gaud it up myself with
stickers or dents. The entire
process, from plan cancellation
through code unlocking to
plan downloading

was three hours. the time
I'd planned to pay my healthcare bill,
see about some reimbursment.

but in an offwhite room
with a steady soundtrack of Stone Temple Pilots
where a ponytailed man compared
phones to weapons and used
"rugged" to describe protective cases
I realized the day I signed
this contract

was the first day of this month
I wouldn't be writing
a poem.