Sunday, January 8, 2017

'coffee for my breakfast, shot of whiskey on the side' ~robert cray
for madonna p
i crashed early last night, 9 p.m.,
no better sleep aid than the
NFL playoffs, bitches,
so i was up at 4 this morning
wide awake after 7 hours
of perfect sleep
to start the morning
canned moka pot italian coffee plus
very hot whole milk
lots of sugar
some leftover panetone
during my postprandial smoke
i noticed lights in the attic
of the 7,000 square-foot behemoth
across the street
our own local balzac
at work no doubt
20 cups of coffee with 20
cigarets recording the melodrama
of the trump election
and contemporary
elite bedroom living
the balzacs moved here paying
an enormous housing
premium just to avoid
my big sis
moved here in 1970
with 9 kids and a drunk
bus-driver husband
because housing then was then so
dirt-basement cheap
'a beautiful place in the country'
or so said the jingle
how times have changed
big sis returned from ft. myers
last year to be with family--la familia--
i'd advised her to stay put
here in town way back
when, her paid-off house the drunk bus
driver had provided but the lure
of the 4 bedroom
one-and-a-half-story quintupled
equity was too irresistible
couldn't blame her really
she refurnished her entire life with the proceeds
and moved to a florida condo to find
another mr. right
the drunk having succumbed
to his pleasures
a year ago her corporate VP
son bought her a house
back here in the 'ville
she thrived playing daily scrabble
with her beautiful daughter
and her, the daughter's, 5 kids
hope you got this all down
and your all-night
composing bears fruit,
monsieur honoré
copyright © 2017 by p. o'hayer

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