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.