A book's laid out in front of me.
Broken spine keeps my place.
Heat from both radiator
and unfamiliar sun.

I close my eyes,
wishing half an hour
would disappear
like it does on any other day.

Ticking of nails on plastic keys,
behind and in front.
The sound of a generation.

Distant talking and traffic light beeps
masked
by cold-ridden breath.

A car drives passed the window,
slowly. And then it's gone.
Hidden beneath the beep
of a successful loan.
Still the sound beats all.