-from across the street-

I tried like hell. But I couldn’t read the windows.

I don’t know what it is they're selling inside——

But I’m sure that they want to sell something.

When they open for business, that is. The stores are waiting,

Closed and important.

Today, nothing’s open for business.

The street’s row is light-covered. Not bathed. Covered.

A convincing, early light. Too early for anything.

Not a cat in sight. Maybe there's no need for one. Nothing's moving.

Funny, how I thought of a cat from across this street.
I don't know if a cat's omission lends itself to the stillness,
Or if a solitary cat's introduction to the plane
Would somehow add to the nature of the stillness. But,
I'm thinking cat.

It’s tempting. But you can’t get a haircut.

Not today, anyway. And it's the one place clearly recognized.

But it’s there, waiting for you. A haircut is waiting.

Go inside, it’s okay. But not today. Tomorrow.

It’s Monday tomorrow, then off with your hair!——

You can actually sense it. Feel it. Everything's just waiting.

Then, the barber's-pole will turn its stripes to the street tomorrow, 
And tomorrow, you'll get your chair.

You can buy a parakeet next door.

A table-saw, maybe. A simple battery-run toy for the kid.

Arrange the trip you can’t afford to take. It could be travel-oriented.

But that's on Monday. Not today. Today nothing’s open.

Except the light.

Work tomorrow. But you’ll find some time.

Get that canary. The kid’ll like it.

But it’s you that’ll end-up walking it. 

You’ll find the time to get it tomorrow. 
It’s Monday for the parrot, the barber and the other things, too.

Maybe next door, after your haircut, you’ll buy that book. 
The one you told everyone you'd read. 
You can get the book on Monday. 

Maybe even read a paragraph or two. 
That way, you’ll be telling them the truth as you see it. But no.

Looks more like apparel. A clothing store, I think. Not books.

Not even on Monday. And I wanted that book. Would’ve read it, too.

The important parts. 
I need a pair of trousers, anyway.

Haircut,
Canary. Trinket for the kid. Some sort-of tool. 
And I need that book.

I’ll get a pair of trousers, too. But that's tomorrow. 
On Monday.  

I’ll have the time on Monday. Yet,

Still. The light.

                                                           for Edward