I'm awake and approaching you

by Jeremy Schmall

Everything is approach
                           all afternoon footsteps
ticking against my coffee-tattered

skin.     I measure the distance
from here to my door.

6 meters.

                           The 3 windows
of my bedroom do nothing
to remind me
                           they exist.
They don't care about me
            or they've forgotten they

exist.  Some startling revelation
                           I miss
            as the doorbell

which hasn't worked
            for a decade continues
            its busted silence.
I'm the doorbell maybe

or I'm the forgetful windows
I'm filled with light drinking

coffee in the filthy kitchen
imagining the presence
of bleach
            & industriousness

what bleach & industriousness
could do for the filthy kitchen.
And a window

                                        a row of windows
funneling in trees & minivans.

                                        The refrigerator is 1.7 meters high.
                                        The kitchen is 8 exaggerated paces long.
            It takes 2.8 seconds

                                        for the TV
to touch the sidewalk
                                                     from the roof
but nobody's impressed.

I'm not either.  I'm considering floorboards
made of water              I imagine
a water roof     water cars spilling

through the city           I decide
to stop thinking about water

            & lie down
                                        on the water carpet
staring up at the water ceiling.