Tuesday, March 12, 2019

PAGEANT

Nothing like
a delicate
white cup of coffee—
black as the morning
sky is cerulean,
with steam arabesque-ing
ladders to heaven
above the attendant
and mortally-
still kitchen table—
to make you feel
that you might
(somehow, someday,
in a whole other kitchen,
painted completely
different
from this one)
still fall in love
with the life
you have left.

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