A smudged grainy ring against blue lines
it cuts through his handwriting like a breadknife

the blue ink ripples with the water-damaged paper
reassuringly human amidst the bleached whiteness

Not One Hours Rest, Moon Still Standing Nice and Tall

Stars Still Hanging on, You Ride Hazily and Lazily to The City Train Station

Seeing Faces, Seeing Slouched Shoulders, Seeing Tired Eyes all around you

Waiting and Thinking of Home, Observing Yet Constantly Yawning

In No Time You Are Propelled Forwards and Out Through the City Limits

Metal Container Rattling, No Snooze Alarm for the Rising Sun

The City Dissolves into the Back of Your Eyes as You Hit A Tunnel and Enter the Suburban Void

Suddenly Fantastic Splotches of Greenery Drift into Sight, Dabs of Golden Light Float Like Dandelion Spores in The Air

People Move Up and Down the Carriage Schizophrenically, Fidgeting, Never Considering Sitting Still, Not Even Once

Please Just Look Out the Window

Outside Battered Tree Trunks Lay Lifelessly in the Middle of Wondrous Sprawling Fields

Clouds Ripple Insanely Throughout the Horizon, Livestock Enjoying Themselves While They Still Can

What Follows This is a Series of Dilapidated Sheds and Abandoned Roads Leading Up into the Hills so Jagged They Must Have Been Cut by a One Single Colossal Breadknife

Upon entering our home's front door
I smell a smell so intensely pure
As if upon command, my mouth begins to water
My feet towards the kitchen do not hesitate nor falter

I find a loaf of sweet, delicious, homemade bread
This incredible smell goes instantly to my head
Longing to add the taste of sweet honey butter
To my slice of bread lavishly, it, do I smother

The hot release of steam as I cut into the loaf
Truthfully, bread is best right out of the stove
My strong frame melts just like the butter
Oh yes, this piece was just an appetizer

My stomach growls for the next hot, dreamy slice
My desire to savor another delicate portion does increase
As I reach for the breadknife, I remember to say thank you and please

It is said that people can smell Mother's bread upon their deathbed
Yes, that heavenly taste and smell of freshly baked bread
Thus today, I will savor each and every tender bite
Sinking my teeth into that tender morsel, to my heart's delight

Written by:
Jason Cheney
February 2023