American Breakfast

 Teardrops fell on mamma’s note, as I read the thing she wrote,
she said ‘we miss you, son, we love you…come on home’..

It’s dawn on the moon here, and I find myself awake and energized for the first time in a long time. The sun’s not yet up, but there’s a growing blue tone already washing over the land. The cold, a bitter enemy to the exhausted, is piercing and welcome to the freshly awoken…and every breath I take is like champagne. Nobody is awake for breakfast, so I go alone, which is almost better really. Eggs and coffee and homemade toast, clanging silverware, old men telling war stories at the round table…should I go ice skating or skiing when I finish? Better relax and have another cup of coffee while I mull over these important decisions. God, I love America..

…can’t remember when I ate, it’s just thumb, and walk and wait,
but I’m still five hundred miles, away from home.