Impossibly far from here
we’re eating breakfast together
eggs, mine covered in cheese, yours?
I’m having steak, and you,
local sausage.
In common, too, we have cold
and even a bit of snow
My honey is pollenated by
flowers far different than yours
But my toast, like yours
tastes impossibly sweet
In my mouth on my tongue.
While I smile after talking to you
I chew on my breakfast
and try to swallow the sadness
of how impossibly far we
are eating breakfast together.
~ cj 2011.02.06
