You know, before I moved here, I would've told you
that a good morning was defined by the way
you drank your coffee when you first got out of bed,
not the work on your computer or the leaves of the tree
changing color and falling out in the back yard.
I would have smiled and remarked that using the same
purple coffee mug gave the milk painted espresso
just a little more meaning while the two scoops of sugar
made the day seem sweeter than it ever actually is -
and I'd have laughed as we agreed that would be okay.
But now that I'm here and the world seems so different,
it's not about how you take your brown beans or even
the creamer inside - no, it's really not like that at all.
Really, life is a skinny vanilla latte, with warm milk.
perfect fluffy foam, and just a hint of something to taste.
And your day is what you make of it, especially
if you walk one foot in front of the other all day long,
like the rest of us do - the price of the sedan in the garage
and the buffet next to the bar make no difference at all.
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