One more time this week I have
made breakfast and
it is not the right breakfast
The right breakfast exists
on some astral plane
dimensionally opposed
To ours
One more time I am reminded
that the jam eating food tolerating rest of the world also
exists on
Some far off plain with
an ecosystem unlike
this sparse landscape of a home that
I must thrash my conscience into
loving
Food desiccates on moody plates
Yet like all early morning bleak space
when I am still enough I find
it is encrusted with life
January 15, 2025