learned a few things

sitting at
the kitchen table
a glass of water
reposing like Buddha.
i look out the window
at the white winter sky
over the rooftops.
a smoking chimney.
the silence of the white air
after getting fired,
wondering what to do
now. so much white air
filling my head. i remember
wanting to be a cop
when i was 5. it was either
that or a fireman. everything
was simple. now i’m thinking
maybe i should become
a drug dealer.

by Ross Vassilev