-Coiled-
Like the field-of-vew wobble
you get by rotating
a coke bottle. But not blurry.
Just tinted and gyrating.
It is a beginning of the day smell
that tugs well past 4pm.
And the trees just opened
a box of doughnuts.
The sprinkles cross-pollinated
with the frosted and jelly-filled.
The lid got all mashy.
Someone has powdered sugar
stuck on their fingers.
And there is a three year old
twisting. Ready to fly
as soon as enough tension
builds in her mother’s arm.
Maybe that’s what they mean
by Spring. That uncomfortable,
almost let go already.
While mom is still tisking
and settle down will ya?
We have to cross the street.
But it is the not-crossed street
that is the problem. It’s before
coffee, and thus too soon.
At the same time, coffee already brewed,
burning in the pot. Already
warm in the esophagus.
Un-begun, yet too begun
to stand.
There are doughnuts,
and if you aren’t screaming:
We can’t move as wobbly
as the glass! You are still
on the corner. The light
stuck blinking
both walk and stop.
