I’m eating
The American experience
For breakfast.
In a chocolate night shirt.
In the quietly pattering rain.
The pungent air
Smells warm
- feels rich.
What is given
And what is received
Are often very different things.
I find myself standing
In the middle of the
Kitchen floor,
At the center
Of the universe,
And I’m wondering
About the conversation
The daylight
Is having
With the songbirds.