the Day on my face

I notice it.  Every night as soon as I walk into my bedroom.  My dear roommate is in his, typing judiciously and willfully to make his wages.  Stepping through the doorway into my unpretentious and pleasant apartment, setting the bags down... there!

The trenches now carved beneath my eyes are saying something.  Maybe they are saying, "sleep".  I only wish I had a good book like "Lady Chatterly's Lover" to snuggle up against.  I also wish my difficult eyelids were not demanding my full attention at the moment.

Buenas noches!