The Second Coffee

Boy (what we call him, not his real name) is always going outside just to see what's about. Ice is a particular fascination. He has a natural scientific curious exploratory type of mind. We found some human bones once, but we were exploring an abandoned church crypt.

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Signs of this family rousing

From sleep; Footsteps

Toilet flushes, mumbling

Retraced steps for things forgotten

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Cereal bowls take their

Morning journey, cups swoop

From hooks, kettle flies

To tap and back, spoon tray clatters

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Dog stares it is her Jedi mind

Trick to get breakfast

Every morning her bowl is

Replenished, clever mind trick

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Washing machine jaw opens

On a side hinge, dirty clothes

Stuffed in to rumble

Through the belly drum

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Second coffee. Around this

Percolated calm, problems arise

But the lost trousers will be

Inevitably, in the airing cupboard

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Other lost items materialise, such as shoes

Drying on the hearth-stone, and they are

Found to be not in the place they were left

And no, forgetfulness cannot explain it

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Second coffee, sip by sip, takes all this

Morning flounce in comfortable strides

Across this most familiar landscape, still

Can enjoy the cantankerous scenes

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I watch them repeat my mood-skip

On seeing the mist, the tide of which

Has slipped down, but one can still, with

Vividness, conjure pictures of sailing ships

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Washing machine ruminates

Boy ventures out to look for ice

He finds a piece of discarded mouse

He observes it as a right hindfoot

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Above the vapour haze, heavenly

Blue unbounded, a band of bright

Atmosphere ties the world up

Proffers today as a gift

Comments

Boy said…

Go 313! Spanner's mind control powers *Feed, Walk, Play*

The Boy

15 December 2011 at 14:09

Contact Pants Conundrum

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Hometime Foam Time

It was hot outside, cold indoors. When we were freed from the hall I opened my car thinking oven gloves might be required for driving. I was weary. I was lined up for a row of shifts- but the evenings are lighter now, and the beach was calling. I drove a wiggly route to Veryan (the road I chose was closed) and down to Carne Beach. Since I had checked the weather the wind had turned easterly, and the tide was in. There were waves smacking over a disappearing line of fine sand. Undeterred I wriggled my swimsuit on and went to play in the foam. Neither air nor sea was particularly cold. Blue and cloud patterned sky, blue and turquoise patterned sea, flowers blooming and swooshed by the wind, and the warm brown crags of rock: to be here was to be directly connected to the source of all existence. Home time was foam time, and vice versa. Afterwards I sat in my car, door open, eating a square of dark chocolate, watching the white flecks and trying to work out if the dark dot was a...

Wishbone Soup Cures Everything

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