Last Night

Sitting in the armchair with a glass of 

ice-less, watered-down lemonade.

Mom mumbles, "Turn it down..."

so Rachel yells

at Ross

quieter.

A blind fluff-ball rolls off another piece 

of furniture, heads for the door.

Screen door is opened for

the old dog who

won't know

where he 

is.

The inane cat tumbles and rolls, trying

to initiate a game with 

a dreaded roach that slimes

his way across

the floor

again.

The younger of the two brothers is

seated comfortably in a

blue folding chair. He plays

a song once or

twice with

his nose.

An overly large quilted comforter

folded backwards over the end

of the bed. "The Bear" snores;

hibernation's 

a bit

too hot.

A disheveled room, newly painted. There's

a faint orange glow as the light 

goes on, exposing a

cat, so loyal

and old,

who naps.

A long, blonde-ish ponytail. Pictures

to edit, blogs to write until

two thirty in the A.

M., since sleep is

out of

question.