Thirty Minutes

I sit in my car with the heater turned all the way up
On a cold winter's day.
I'm watching the snow fall on my windshield.
It obscures me from the other people in the parking lot.
I disappear in it.
The air is hot and stuffy.
It seems to crisp my bedroom eyes
And drain the sagging purple bags that make them heavy.

I'm just slowly sipping my coffee.
From a Styrofoam cup—
Hoping to make the moment last.
John Coltrane's playing "Ogunde"
From acd-r of mixed tracks playing
In my car stereo.
There's no words in it,
But I know he's saying.

Right now, I know what things mean.
I drift off.
I enjoy my 30 minutes on break.
During it,
I write this poem
On the back of my lunch's receipt.

poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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