Had my morning cup of coffee.
Listening to Mozart on my Echo.
Read some poetry which prompted
me to write this.
Smoking my third cigarette of the day.
The clutter of my present life
surrounds me.
Pup at rest nestled between my legs.
An ash from my smoke
tumbles down the front of my shirt.
Nonchalantly, I brush it away.
Sunday, I remind myself
if I survive it, will likely play out
the same as every other day.
-30-
Chris Hanch 12-6-2020
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