8:15 AM I Sit

I sit
in my kitchen/studio
at my table.
I sit where
I normally sit
when I eat.
I sit
writing instead.
I sit
facing my front door,
looking through
my living room,
through my
open front door,
through the
closed and latched
screen door.

I sit
watching Gustav
parade down Webster Street,
river bound,
a parade route usually
only paraded upon by
the Buzzards,
or an errant
Thoth rider looking
for a place to pee,
or,
at the outset of
hurricane season,
in June,
by the participants
of Barathon —
6 miles
6 bars
6 beers ...
Yeah you right!

Today,
through the Stonehenge
observational slit
that is my front door,
I sit
and watch
hurricane Gustav
parade his (her?
I still have an
old school habit
of thinking of
storms as feminine.)
blustery ass
river bound on Webster Street.