Top O’ The Morning To You

The tone of morning here:
base, dark, open to
manipulation.

I drink coffee from a mug
with a picture on the side
and a motto that says,

“Kiss My Alpacass.”
It’s got a cute picture on the side,
like I said; weren’t you listening?

The picture is of a smug alpaca,
smiling slightly at the drinker
of coffee or tea or whatever.

He looks back over his shoulder,
or she does. Who knows? I interpret
everything my way,

regardless of the clues and
expectations. Weren’t you listening?
Anyone can see the creature is

genderless, sexless, a picture
on a mug meant for drinking.
It was made by someone, somewhere

in China according to the bottom;
that’s not important now. What is?
The fact of the coffee cooling off

inside it; the face of the alpaca;
the weird drone of a plane
going somewhere. It’s growing lighter

outside. The tone of morning
is changing. I am changing, too,
and no one will understand.

So I kiss my coffee cup, again,
draining the last of the drink off.
The picture on the outside

does not change, not at all.
I’d love a second cup, maybe a third one
after that. Then we’ll see

what this morning — dark, full
of mischief, unyielding in its sense
of foreboding — has for me.

Weren’t you listening? I do not
expect much more than this.
I await the daylight alone.

I close my eyes against the light
for now, and maybe for good.
Maybe that’s for the best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T