bubbles in the sink

you know what's fun?
NOT making progress is fun.
NOT moving successfully toward a goal is fun.
not painting the shutters is fun.
masturbating without feeling like you HAVE to cum is fun.
sometimes ya just want to be, you know, ya just want to be.
lolling back, your tongue out, a bourbon in one hand and nothing
in the other hand, staring at nothing, thinking
nothing.
maybe there's some music on the radio in
the background--maybe it's music that you like, maybe
it's music that you don't like, but
you know what, it doesn't really matter,
'cause you're not paying attention anyway.
maybe you take a nice long sip of your
bourbon, and when you pull your lips
away, a drop of bourbon rolls down
your chin. you hardly notice that
drop of bourbon rolling down
your chin, though. what chin?
what drop? maybe the telephone rings.
maybe it doesn't.
it's all the same to you.
that nervous tick you've been having
in your eyelid, all at once, it just quietly
goes away.
someone suggests dinner: you reply:
"me, or you?"

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in Chiron Review, Issue #85, Winter 2008.)