A swallow of weak coffee went down
the wrong way today – I spat.
Found the pink lemonade sun rising, a watery smile
over the street and its limp newspaper,
the morning mosquitoes. A dog barked
at a choking sprinkler, a crow screamed.
Shook out his shoulders.
Sleepy men paddled past my trash cans
in a slow truck. Mildew crept up the house walls,
into my nostrils. I had a cold belly
in spite of the steam and funk of 6 a.m.
and when I came back inside my dog licked my toes,
every one. I said to the kitchen,
I am king, king of the world.