Groundhog Day

A Poem by Little Birdie

Silence is deafening, even when necessary.

she likes a slow day

sounds of cars racing
below half-open windows

let the cold inside this
cozy messy habitat
littered with blue pen tearmarks
on paper-white cloudy skies

cloudy skies of sleepy slow days

jazz is jazz but silence
is deafening
even when necessary
stops worries only skin deep

just don't think about
what waits beyond these decrepit buildings
homage to long lost communist days
tennants have their curtains down

they want to forget that
there's six weeks of winter
more to be had
such long nights offer no respite

but she likes a slow day

peppered with dreams of city lights
far beyond the burrow
something to drag her away
pressed against the wall

cigarette smoke delights the steady flow
begets the slow burn

she has nothing to dream about
except the impending riot
of a mind that goes in circles

the balloon breaks, too,
without force exerted, deflates
on the floor of a cozy, messy bungalow
where silence cuts transparent wounds