Living the Dream

Riverside Louis thinks he is the hatchling of an eggy sun

“Sunnyside up!”, he says, dipping his toast

in buttery tepid spawn of a free meal and coffee.

His month old sparsely plucked chin whiskers

wriggle to catch a few drops of such sunshine

“Oh, Gawd,” this tastes like heaven,” he muffles

through smacking lips folded in on his ecstasy.

I am repulsed yet relieved

at his delight and sunlight laying like a sheer napkin

on place-matted breakfast he seldom gets.

His smile is further enhanced by toothless gumming

of something that should go down slick.

I hear him swish and hope he does not spit

the scalding coffee.

Louis inhales his breakfast and becomes jittery.

He is ready to run back to his cardboard

under the bridge, where he will drink shadows,

his face as yellow as this newly ingested yolk.

I am left with a disappeared companion

and a desire to lick his plate

to know how God tastes.

Tags: Poems //