called time and temperature, she hung-up;
i see her in that office, spilling coffee.

i can see her scurrying to get my call,
only to spill her cup on the counter top.

she was waiting for my call, half-dressed.
still in a smokey-sleep of tomorrows;

if she would stay dressed, fresh, ready,
then these tweetie bird moments would'nt
catch her surprised and holding her top.

but since she controls Time & Temperature.
i say nothing. let the next smuck anger her.

and she used to just report the news;
now it's hers to manipulate, control.
she yawns, points at me. 'yesterday,

is yours to do all over again.'

11/11/2010

Posted on 11/11/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan