silent chewing

prepackaged, frozen and set into warming trays, juice from concentrate, coffee from the deepest darkest roasted pits of hell

oatmeal

dried cranberries, a dash of cinnamon, a hint of milk to return moisture

maybe a sausage if the mind will stop comparing them to dessicated dog shit finally unburied from the last winter snow melting

it’s atlanta

there was no snow

even though the sub fifty temps have the business men huddled as they smoke and complain

they move

as one unit of casually dressed uptight fools

the rattle of bags across the tiled floor

like a flock of birds

they follow the alpha, seek to sit as closely to his aura of power, a paint by numbers last breakfast, with the the father, the son and the holy trade broker wearing a polo shirt

the conversation ebbs and flows on his every word

the rest gather and seek to make their mark in the hollow silence between

i eat my oatmeal, wonder at the irrational rationality of it all

drinking too dark coffee

wishing i were in the too big bed