Photography by Nikita Petrov
Poetry by Raymond Byrnes
He relishes every random nap, content in his
awareness that now no one in the universe
will be concerned how he spends his next
half hour or if his phone remains in sleep mode.
Lately, he reads gritty memoirs from the South
murders solved by Harry Bosch, sports biographies
histories of how The Great War shaped his world
poems that make him tap his lips and read again.
Sometimes when dozing, he dreams he’s running
late; can’t find the hallway for Conference Room
907B; didn’t grab his laptop; has nothing ready
to present if asked; phone’s down to 1%.