i have found it hard lately to
tell the difference between a sunrise
and a sunset, or whether a bird is
flying south for the winter or just, i suppose,
flying. i take my coffee blacker now, bravely
shelving Sugar in the Raw and yes, half-and-half.
oh: i sometimes listen to rap music at work,
but i still work, and sit at desks, and report.
there are days when the edge of life
is dressing without boxer-briefs—but only
in my closet before i turn the light on.
sometimes, for breakfast in january,
i will dare to eat a peach. but let’s not
risk it all; too much on the edge of
muted things, and i’m afraid i’ll just fall