Sunday night sitting

I’m sitting here in the living room
TV going on in the background
more snow will fall, they say
then commercials come
my hip is blasted
and this is nothing new
the same old complaining

the shade is pulled up
revealing pure black from here

I sit here in the chair
and watch TV shows
then turn it off
go back into the bedroom
and read before
going to sleep

reading a lot of Bukowski poems
the flow of the words
downward
the eye falling
quickly to
the next line