I am writing
with my common ground pen
a poem
for five minutes
about right now
as the computer tower hums
and my Pendleton overshirt
rests on the black vinyl chair
with both feet parallel
firmly placed on the colorful
carpet
and the lights of green
of the high-speed internet
connection
turned-on
and I sit facing the green
wooden desk
which comes apart
into three
as the mind seems to be
focused on a visual and auditory
experience
of being.