Silence envelopes me
But for the rapid pounding of my fingers on my laptop keys
Things clutter my floor and the bed opposite me
I'm lying on the other bed 
The one closest to a window
What am I doing at 4:50 pm?

I am typing poetry in my room
The room on the left, on the second floor
Of the second white house in a row of three
It's the one with the number 61 
Etched in gold on the wooden pillar
You know, the one with the peeling paint
White peeling paint, white as a dove.

It seems forever ago since I've heard that rapid pounding of my fingers on the keys
But I know it wasn't at all long ago
'Cause I remember that sound
It was today
Today I heard that pound
Near three.