Life or Death in the Granvue Apts.

It's April but outside
there's snow,
part of the odd weather
we're having wherever
in this world one may go

I've muscle and head-ache
even though my lips are numb
from pain meds

my stomach's full of pizza
with lots of good veggies
perhaps sprayed
with waves of pesticides

an assortment of books
of some small interest,
I'm reading one called
"lives of the poets" :
an intelligent,
academic sort of thing

In about a minute,
I can summon info
on any famous or infamous event,
the text of a well-known poem,
or a dismal punk album
I used to find beautiful

earlier, all day
there was silence,
just the click
of the french wall clock,
the so quiet hum
of the computer,
and the sense of still air
bouncing off white walls

now a neighbor
is playing dead stale death metal
too loud,
but not loud enough
to motivate me to go
rap on his door,
as I've done before

The universe is expanding
we don't know quite how,
and Schrodinger had a cat

still air
bouncing
off white walls