Drinking Coffee, Waiting For My Wife

by Rick Lupert

       

It is a Sherman oaks morning and the plans of eggs
are belayed by keys in a purse in a trunk of a car.

This unexpected siesta at the crossroads of Los Angeles
has more coffee in me than usual.  They keep refilling and

I am ready to walk up the side of the building and survey
the Valley.  Gravity is not my concern.  Normally I'm so straight edge

at least in terms of chemicals I allow inside me.
I've crossed other kinds of lines.

There should be twelve step programs for people like me
Hello my name is...and I am nothing in particular worth mentioning.

The phone rings.  The keys will soon be where they belong.
A short drive will be followed by an omelete.

It is no longer morning.  "can I warm that up for you?"
"No" I say.  They do it anyway.  I am obligated to put it in my mouth.

It is no longer morning.  My eyes will not close until the war is over.

Rick Lupert © 2011