It starts simply enough, a symphony of birds who
Clearly value their constitutions and sleep in,
A leisurely double espresso in bare feet and shorts,
John Coltrane simmering in the kitchen and
Me slouched in a straight back chair at a red and
White striped table centered by a chorus of
Unlit candles and a conically folded white napkin.
Rain patters on the veranda roof in the next room,
Streaming in such a way to pass the dishwater sky
In front of a series of circus mirrors, the stares of
A cigar-chewing fat man, a rail of a girl with a half
Eaten cotton candy and someone with the misfortune
To resemble a pavlova sculpted by a blind man
Read a magazine over my shoulder with interest.
I wonder if the perks of living everyone’s childhood
Pleasure everyday outweighs never having a day of rest and
Being obliged to stand at attention for hours at a time.
I answer my own question silently and lay my
Magazine down as the rain grows still, allowing the sun
To illuminate a sink full of dirty day-old dishes.