Here in the Now

art by Sarah Jun, words by Avery Carlson

Here in the Now

Enter: the office

A collected, organized place

Which waited for commencement

Framed photos and stickies

Were set for productivity

The loading bar progressed–

A green line that marched

Slowly across the screen

Picked at remains

Scatter on the plate

Phone incessant

Cluttered files

Cups & cans

Of energy

Dominate

The space

Food awaited an eager mouth

Bitter coffee jumpstarted the brain

Bursting, filled to the brim

With vibrant ideas

Which cover the various

Calendars & notepads

Fingers once flying

Across letters now

Strike with a clunk

The cold cylindrical

Can now crammed

With abandoned notes

Spine once straight

Now shrimped

The clean, fresh desk

And loading screen

Years ago now

The sky was once

A thin smear of dying flames red

Merged to gold and sunset oranges

Separating the day from the

Navy night–it told the

City lights their shift

Had come to a close

A cotton candy sky

Where did the sweetness

Of the day go–

Arcing the city are

Pinks & Violets & Blues

A dream caught

In an eye’s gaze

Waiting for release

It was just a blink and now the day is closing–It hadn’t been that long

–A mirage? But the day is in fact over–time to unplug

The screen & throw out food that stands

As a testament to passage of time

A smattering of papers

Flooded the space &

Collected over time

Here in the Now

The once plush chair

Is suddenly hard as rock

Eyes and mouth a dry spell

The day has been spent in the cube

Of screen and paper–the food now crumbs

The liquids now drained–the office now a desert

Grains fill the mind, heart, and lungs spilling downwards

Itchy eyes close their lids & head dips down, drooping heavy with the sands