Window Friend
by Odin Roark

Through the partially opened curtain,
sunrise sheds warm light across the bare floor.
Its color and movement always dependable.

Easy to smile on mornings like this.

I rise from my futon and open the curtains a bit more.

Looking up is the natural light of the sky.

Straight across, the tops of buildings,
smoke and condensation rising from
friendless escape routes
abstractions of what might have been.

I open the curtains wider and raise the window.
The breath of honesty flutters the curtains,
cools my naked body.

Looking down at the street,
natural city smells,
refuse trucks pass by
doing their early morning pick-ups.

Just below my 3 floor walk-up,
scurries a young lady toward the subway,
her perfume rising, clean, if not a bit melancholy.
But that’s okay. The bitter pill is behind me now.

My fingers touch the window gently.
Smooth like a baby’s cheek. No demands, no agenda,
other than providing my senses with
with a “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, yes. Like every other morning.
I know I have something special.”
I look again at the sky.

“Did you know that everybody wants a friend
that is transparent, honest.
I have mine, dear window.

“Smells like rain all of a sudden.

You ready for some rain?

Don’t worry.

Squeegee’s right here.”