The room where it happened

A green sofa is pressed against the wall.
The ottoman is where it should be.
And the phone is damp and cold.
Fingers of the dark play in the corner.
Pale empty roses are in a clear vase.
A dictionary is open on the desk.
A word is highlighted: ‘singularity’.
Those who make the journey wince.
A fool takes a donut from a yellow box.
He studies the hole. Time won’t fill it.
The computer hums. A lady from
Chicago has dropped her bags in
  the front room. She plans to stay.
No amount of death and taxes will
  stop us now. Off to the next race.
Pretend you hedged your bet.
The walls were once painted green.
Now, nothing matters but the
  window.
It looks north—toward Minnesota.