Pretzels Before Dinner

The dog is on my right
a bag of pretzels is next to me on the floor
a drink of milk numbs my grip,
as the afternoon condenses on the glass
we share pretzels before dinner

Skinny legs is soft asleep in the corner
uninterested in the Bennets,
in the blue eyed wonder, Mr. Darcy.
She left them mid-climax
for the song of shut eyes, small movements
and sweet stillness.

There's sunlight on  the stone floors
and on the walls that were painted white.
The breeze through the door and the windows smells like a mostly silent afternoon
and the making of fresh grass clippings.
My earth smattered shoes are still tied, next to my feet

I can feel the sleep like I taste the salt
like I smell the breeze
and the smell of gasoline that trails on my fingers
here in our bright square of warm
with the breeze and the sleep
and the pretzels

he asks for more with his eyes

otherwise, it is mostly silent