Same Channel

I woke up to the ceiling doing its blue thing.

The anchor had changed

but the posture was the same—

both hands flat on the desk,

something still happening somewhere.

I hadn't turned it off.

I'd just stopped.

The popcorn texture caught the light

in small repeated peaks

and I watched that instead,

the ceiling,

while the mouth kept moving.

Twenty minutes.

I know because I checked the time

and then I checked again

and both times I was still on the couch

with a blanket half off me

and nothing felt like anything

in particular.

I turned it off.

The room was more dark than quiet.

I sat in it.