justwrite 30 october

with two computers on I turn away and open my notebook these are ivory cream French vanilla pages with lines in only one direction no need for graphics no corrections collapse down on these angles we try to make shapes of the thoughts that escape our minds tie them with our tongues we’re hung out like tired laundry waiting for the sun and when the numbers are run and we see just who’s won then I for one will be eating eggs for breakfast and calling for refills my hair needs trimmed to drop to be or not to drop I’m co-opting each cabinet shelf and toasting the health of bread to crispy gold instead of doughy white the paste that rights cheese and raises jam we are the fans and we shake hands with opportunity lifting slices to the sun on hopeful forks