From the bedroom window I watch the...

From the bedroom window I watch the cars passing.
In the kitchen the fire smolder
The sing of tires sliding on wet asphalt.
The teapot hisses pants of smoke.
Across the way houses dim and uncertain spot in the drizzle.
The first golden-r flame effloresces.
A immense puddle at the curb, wheels splash dirt
The lion-fallow tongue claws on the cloth hanging from the oven
A risky swoop--now it devours a magazine, a parcel of envelopes on the table.
Languidly I reach for my coffee grown chill
Tasteless, brewed through the whole extent of again from the same filter.