The Cozy at 6 a.m.

When I ask about wi-fi

My fourteen year old waitress, blonde and sweet,

Doesn't know if they have it or not.

She explains that she doesn't really work here.

She's working here now with her mom, the owner,

So that one day she can work here.

The men at the counter, all about my age,

Kibbitz with her,

As charmed as I am.

A Thing And A Half

It's a thing and a half,

The giant giraffe,

Tall as a treetop,

Light as a laugh.

Light as a laugh

In the blue of the sky,

Munching on leaves

As the clouds pass him by.

 Once Again The Cozy

Sitting in the Cozy once again,

All is looking rosy once again;

Ketchup on the table --

You can tell – it's on the label --

I'm a posy at the Cozy once again.

Cozy Cafe

Men sit at formica tables with their coffee and papers.

(The Raptors are doing well, the Leafs are doing poorly.

The men are satisfied; it's what they expected.)

The proprietress (a weighty woman), her teenaged daughter (pleasant looking, grease-fed),

And a dour friend who helps out

Kibitz behind the counter.

(Someone ate so much maple syrup she threw up.)

My breakfast is

Heavy with grease, but cut with coffee,

And eternity.

Morning Notes

I searched for her in a dream. I don't usually think of her in particular, but it was she I was looking for. I descended a hillside by an ancient fortress; there were rooms hidden in the walls. I entered down into the stone, and found a chamber with a pallet and hearth, cold and inviting. She had been there. Cold and inviting.

In my dreams I descend hills, I wander ancient buildings and hidden halls, I search for the one I've never found in shabby, abandoned rooms. They smell of mould and mouse piss. Must I learn to love mouse piss?