there are always choices

faint hints of powder blue try to influence the sky's hard winter grey
the cat refuses to drink from his floor-bound bowl, preferring an old applesauce jar in the sink
while I watch green tea slowly transform clear hot water
I have two choices:
return to the comforting arms of Morpheus until noonday hunger stops my torpor
face the day, its grey loneliness, my blue grief 


there are always choices
[2012.10.1...a]

while the tea cools

through invisible tears, I notice nothing
but an absent pain that should paralyze me
the cat covets birds visiting his balcony
a pot of green tea cools
I answer the phone and console a weeping friend
life returns to a calmer pace
and I know in the years to come 
a larger hole of loneliness will slowly befriend and tame my grief


while the tea cools
[2012.8.1...b]