is turning over the coldplay vinyl
to hear the familiar fuzz and soft
orchestra against the summer rain.
writing a paper is kind of like
writing a symphony.
Until Jess comes in, asking me to
see pictures of her haircut senior year
and the symphony is interrupted.
And then soars back again
quieter at first- and then
gaining speed, up and up, Crunching
carrots in absentminded fury
impatient till the thoughts are out
like notes in the blended sounds
keeping the kettle on as pots and pots
of tea are drained
I complain- but really.
where would I be without papers.