Crossing the river into The Cheese Kingdom,
the wind tugs your steering, and I turn to face the crowd
of white caps applauding my half-a-lifetime achievement
award in the category of idolatrous indecisiveness.
I scratch the back of your head, baseline of my serenity.
If I were a theist, I’d say this is how God reveals himself,
refreshing my homepage of expectation. Coffee, the minor
American god of Mondays, delivers us from boredom.