Noon

The city begins to wake
as cars honk and sirens sound.
From the ninth floor,
it's easy to get lost in the clouds
when you can't see the ground.

The furnace is too loud,
I want to hear you breathe,
so the heat escapes through the window
to warm the homeless in the streets.

We lay in bed,
our bodies fit like a puzzle
that has found its missing pieces.
We should get up soon,
but four more minutes
quickly becomes noon.