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morning, again

so I fret my way
through coffee,
and my drifting,
inefficient mind
I write about managing
as if my mind
is a puppy to train–so I
chop yellow peppers,
scallions, scramble two eggs
breakfast for today and
tomorrow. I congratulate
myself on
two breakfasts at once
I rinse the bowl–get caught
on the moon high up
framed by the kitchen window
here, where my daughter
once sang and washed dishes
A bird soars between me
and the moon.
time passes
And I’ll only be late to work
If I stop to write this down.

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