Saturday Night

Computer pale humming,
     green circles blinking on the electronic box,
          black headphones silent resting on their side.
Packet of mint waxed floss casts a shadow across the table,
     shaped like an unmarked tombstone,
          shaped like a deformed bell chiming for no one.
The Drunken Boat lies flat and alone,
     the same cover black white and gray,
          unopened and along the edge of the desk.
Eyeing dark-haired smiling girl with cats,
     the radio is mute,
          thinking of geography and recounting miles.
Map of the world hangs on the wall,
     the lines unchanged,
          Greenland is curved like South America but empty.