The coffee ***'s braying invaded my daydream
so I snapped out of it and fixed myself a cup.
I sat back down at the kitchen table and
focused on the twirls and curls of steam.
Seeing the water join my atmosphere made
me think of prospective goals and my future.

Positive thinking, you know.

Such thoughts were like admiration for someone
who hates themselves; pointless and unwanted.
My eyes drifted to the sliding glass door and
I took a gulp, shuddering at the caffeine fixation.
I wasn't looking at the birds on the powerlines,
or the morning fog lingering under overcast skies.
Just at the two panes of glass and the cross-hatched
pattern of plastic supports that existed between them,
like expression caught inside of idealistic traditions.

Like seeing house pets kept in a cage.

At some point in my unfocused gazing my
thoughts shifted from the future to the past, and
I felt a hollow remnant of ex-lovers sitting with me.
They sat looking at me sip cooling coffee,
seeing me look at the sliding glass door.

Like an egotistical mirror manic with vanity and pride,
the reflection of the door showed myself watching me
and I liked what I saw inside.