Apartment Living

Five-thirty A.M.
Sleep has fled.
I lie wide awake,
trying not to move,
so as not to disturb my wife.
My mind grapples with images
of this new bug they've discovered
in Adrianne's lungs --
what is it?
Will it delay the transplant?
From somewhere
comes a buzzing noise --
when it stops, I realize
it was just the refrigerator.
The wall clock emits
soft, chucking noises
as it fights gravity for
twenty seconds of every minute.
Outside, hissing tires on I-5
tell me the morning shift
is dodging its way to work.
Far off, and lonely,
a freighter blows its horn,
echoing across Puget Sound.
Six-oh-five A.M.
The alarm will sound in an hour --
sleep continues to elude me.
Lights pinwheel across the ceiling
as a car passes by in the street.
There's a whoosh as
the neighbor flushes his stool.
Somewhere in the distance
a siren wails --
an urgent sound we know all too well.
Every time I adjust my position,
my wife stirs --
I worry that I'm disturbing her sleep.
Six-fifteen A.M.
I doze fitfully.
"Good morning, Seattle!"
the radio alarm startles me.
I smell coffee
as the pot clicks on, to brew.
Another day -- another week.
I wonder what surprises
lie in our pathway today.

Dallas D'Angelo-Gary 00