the blink of an ye
as i ascend the elevator, my watch blinks "too late." damn, time to reset. i think about what i must look like to the security guard watching the moniter in the lobby; standing tall, eyes straight, feet together, but calm. im cool as a cucumber. i've done this before, it's old hat. when the door opens, i calmly place one foot outside the car, and swing its companion just as gracefully in front of it. when i reach my apartment i will slide my key, enter my bedroom, simultaneously grasping roommates cheap wooden desk chair with my other hand. it has been left there, conveniantly, considerately, by my roommate himself. i will carry the chair to his bed, where i will raise it and, with out a word, drop it. and again. neon red in the sea of dark. twirling and sppinning like a scarf in the wind.