Inventory

Inventory: a cold right typing hand, an empty mug of tea, an overturned Blackberry probably blinking. "Love you Dady" valentine wrapped in iPod buds pink as the day it was born. Two pair of reading glasses. One pair on my face. Another set of iPod buds. An overturned CD covered by pens. So many no good pens never where I need them. Mail, two monitors, bad punctuation. Two computers, a printer, a keyboard illuminated by a lamp from my childhood with Indians on it. (They must be cold with so little on sitting so close to the rattling window.) Three remote controls and no control at all. Newspaper. Folders. Sunflower seeds a tiny skull Mom bought me in the English countryside. Index cards. More pens. A binder clip the color of mustard in cartoons. Legal pads--yellow and white. In my ears a D chord at the end of a song and on the periphery of my vision a blur of books and one cold window.