Contrast

We're sitting on the bed and he is looking at me
like I am some sort of broke-wing bird
with a new year's party smile,
hollow and drunk.
Time curls around us warmly,
asking for sleep
which he gives like a compliment.

In contrast,
I am a computer screen,
new century channel surfing
with an index finger and bleary eyes.

Outside, snow has deleted the landscape
and it is bright like a bathroom light
exploding after waking up
from a nightmare.