033010f When Orders Come Poem by Manonton Dalan

darkness still master of the ground
car lights brushing building's side
percolating coffee's aroma holding
breathes, to tempo of thirsting desire
doors giving birth to wrap bulges
slow moving towards warm shelter

greetings fill cold spring morning
sleepy eyes beg for resting place
tired flesh caught by sturdy chair
elbows flat on naked table top
tempting to speak, speak for a few
succumb to listening to things to do