The rain wakes me
Earlier than I would like
But hey it’s Sunday and I have
Absolutely no plans but to live
Life in PJ’s read poetry cook pasta
Make tiny coffees all day long
Place them wherever I decide to go
Leave a trail of cups as memories
Of the journey I made today
From morning pages on my balcony
To playing a jazz record sent from Belgium
Cut up watermelon create a sticky mess
Deep long stretches in the middle of
The living room floor
New poetry book on the couch
Nap on the couch
Dreaming asleep and awake
This couch
A cradle for a broken body
After nights of dancing and days
Of making love
A nest for ideas to hatch
They fly straight in from the window
The constant murmur of China town outside
Background sound to the playlist of my life right now
This couch
Fertile soil where
Dreams are born
Nothing makes sense
Nothing has to
Make any sense today
This couch is my island
of poetry coffee jazz rain PJ's
Sunday
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