Six lifetimes ago An automatic coffee maker Chef and chief breadwinner Recanted a story Woven from the tattered threads Of another The red sweater in the wind Contrasting against the sun Winds gust
grey skies turning orange, whirling helicopter blades; the cycle repeats.
What is this notion, This gaping maw, gazing longingly back at me? Annoyed at the very least of the intrusion, Enraged at the remainder. Someplace beyond this. . .
Noticing the lightness Signaling the cup is empty Having finished my coffee I am consistently disappointed it doesn't refill itself
virtue and vices, cat purring at the window; the sound of your voice.