Every morning,
before things begin,
invariably, to get their
own ideas—this workable
excerpt, this gloss of an unshaven
face reflects upward
on a perfectly circle-cropped
veneer of black coffee.
I gaze back down
at the hole in the mug carefully,
without reservations, abiding in
the unrealistic shape
and feel ever so slightly
unnerved
by my confidence—that there's
really nothing
unusual
to worry about anymore.