It’s not so different any other day, well
Anymore. I wake up early, get the dishes
Left from dinner last night where my daughter
Fought me over sweet potato fries. Then try to
Grind the coffee beans and quiet because
My son is sleeping lightly lately in the bassinet
Aside my wife, in bed, and it’s for her. I shower
Pulling down the head and see the rainbow faces
Drawn in last nights bath of things I’ve long forgotten,
That she is only now beginning to see, And
I’ve started to picture again.
Then, usually, I’ll eat breakfast, but it’s harder now
Because the world is lead by troglodytes in
Borrowed skin and fucking wheat and bread, and I
Am gluten-free, and would like to stay not dead.
She’ll stir, and it won’t matter which, here, I mention
As one begets the other begets the next
Part where I lay my head against my wife when
She wraps her arms around my waist, and, with
One simultaneous sigh, asks if I could sizzle
Bacon, maybe, eggs, but lately everyone craves
Pancakes (See?!). She’ll ask if we are home today, and
In dismay, she’ll tell us that she goes to school on
Tuesday, Wed. and Thursday. Then I’ll make her
tie-dyed pancakes; Today, I’ll make a Bluey.
I’ll make my tea, and as I start to leave, she (trust me
It could be either, too) neither frowns or smiles, but asks
What Saturday means, and rather than make up
A tiger story or haunted tale, I say “My week is
Done, and I am yours”.
And I’ll look for my shoes, and leave, but
Forget that thing that I forgot, and really,
I can’t stand to think of time where any of us
Aren’t within a millimeters rule. I’ll run late, and call out
“PUT YOUR SHOES ON, YOU HAVE SCHOOL!”
Then, as she’s gotten fond of recently, she’ll turn
To me and ask who I love more. And I will kiss her,
Kiss them both, on lips and head and say, assuredly,
“Imagine you’re all swimming, and my love for you’s the pool.”