This Morning. I’ve left my coffee somewhere. Out in the garage I think. When I went to get some chicken thighs out of the freezer. The leeks in the fridge are a bit impoverished, so I’ll roast up the chicken thighs with leeks and peas. And white wine. For that I’ll need to raid Mister’s wine cooler. Maybe now. While he’s not looking. While he’s outside washing my car. What a darling that man is to wash to my car. I know nothing about wine, except some is clear, which is white, and some is red, which pokes me behind the eye with a migraine. He knows all about wine. I don’t drink much. Maybe on my birthday. My doctor asked me recently, How much do you drink? I said, not often – maybe on my birthday, and he said, How many times a year do you celebrate your birthday? I’m not convinced comedians should be doctors. It’s a good thing that I don’t mind cold coffee. Yes, honestly, my brain does rattle on like this in the morning.
I do not trust time
It travels the wrong direction
Time escapes like steam
for GoDogGo Café Haibun Wednesday, “Your Morning” Image from WikiArt “Rollande” by Prudence Heward, 1929
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