& steam opening up the pores
hits the brain a rude slap
by the entrance to the park
the hedge is full of song
pour the coffee in the cup
bitter & with a hint of
granny’s house but her rock cakes
pour hot water on all this
nostalgia & they’ve cut the grass
only one side of the street
& the cats start early dashing
over roads before the traffic hits
& the day starts later &
later breath smells of old toothpaste
& a runner runs past phone
strapped to her arm electro pop
in ear buds the coffee makes
you sit straight up the nostrils
clearing the head of last night
& the harsh light of morning
slaps a squid on the table
you have to pull that hard
internal shell right out it’s inedible
as credit cards call it calamari
& everyone wants to eat at
the best Greek restaurant in town
where the word ‘pinny’ still hangs
on the hook at the back
of my brain I can’t see
those birds but they chunner on
of something dark brown add milk
start dreaming about the next cup
Steven Waling