It is early morning.
I am sitting at an outdoor table outside of a Washington Street coffee shop,
I imagine that I am a stunning portrait of a restful life.
It isn't PJ's or City Perk and it isn't New Orleans,
but it cradles my psyche when the weather is warm and welcoming.
Winter will soon nibble away at the greenish leaves that are left on
some of the trees, pushing me a little out of balance
.
The grayness of winter dirges my spirit,
the forsaken sun replaced by a perpetual snowstorm.
gifted by the snow witch of the northeast
She is dressed in black, sans ruby slippers
and leaves crimson lip smudges on my cheeks
.
It's easy today though, as I sit here to come
to the conclusion that this is a life.
Easy to deceive myself. that this his is becoming home.
Its charms have outwitted
my resolve to return.

I'm best in the mornings before most people are up.
and the garbage trucks are completing their rounds.
This morning I woke up in epiphanonic splendor,
knowing once again that I color my own life;
can be whatever crayon I wish to be in this
great crayon box of the world, which also means
I can be as trite as I want to be when I write
on this Sunday morning.

I haven't colored my hair in over two years
The silver is shining through and all evidence
of the reds is gone.
It's Audrey Hepburnish, Breakfast at Tiffany's,
a breakfast of silver, gold, gems, and jewels.
And here, I sit with the calorie laden bagel in front of me,
expensive only in the form of what it will add
to my already generous hips.
But it's my life and my hips and perhaps ,
I love both of them.
And, I realize I'm here at all because of five minutes
of postwar intimacy which allowed me
to invade my mother's womb, after my father returned
from invasions of his own.

And so, I am
charmed,swarmed,balmed,alarmed

and, it's no harm, no harm at all!!!

11/16/2014

Posted on 11/16/2014
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