Music in the Afternoon poetry I sit in warm light and a draft like ice cuts through me The man on the stereo he never stops playing even when the temperature drops Oh to be trapped in an entertainment center, and worry not about the world at all Share this: Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...