Strangers often ask what I do.
"Writer," I usually say, but that
**** isn’t the truth. If what we do
is defined by how we spend
the bulk of our time, then what I do
is sit in a soft chair with a stain
on the back cushion. I stare
out the window at the hillside.
Sometimes I ponder and reminisce.
Other times I don’t.

-Ron Gavalik