Saturday Afternoon

I eat eggs for late breakfast and wonder
how many eggs Americans will eat
today, this warm winter, season unsure,
there’s nothing to do but bike fast and breathe.
Bobby took a break from touring, back home
for now, I knew his hair would grow longer
just as mine is short again. Floor boards moan
under a cat who thinks we forgot her,
we stretch for the sun in the kitchen, blink
through blindness, the cat on the heater whines.
Writing music he watches drops of ink
in water currents drifting in his mind.

We will narrow each eye to a sliver
the sky opening over Hanover.

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