his face
turned towards
the waters,
viewing the ocean
through an open window
a calendar hung
on the wall with
the wrong year,
a coffee stained
desk top,
an overflowing ashtray,
the exhaustion of
morning before day begins
the chair becomes a
closet for sweaters,
sweatshirts, socks, hats
and boots tipped over
as if dead
he pauses,
thinking of her
copper colored hair,
fair weather skin
and sure hands