Degree of Separation

The furnace kicked on at three in the morning,

a dry roar through the vents to say you’d won.

I lay there in the heat without a warning,

counting the minutes until the night was done.

The orange light of the dial glows in the hall,

a small, round eye watching the air get thick.

You want a desert walled in by the drywall,

and I just want to hear the cooling metal click.