Hotel Breakfast on a Road Trip

The hotel dining room smells
of omelets, bacon, and onions,
accompanied by the music of eating:
metallic chimes of forks and knives
tapping ceramic plates, percussion
of coffee cups hitting tabletops,

the occasional morsels
of overheard sentences
concerning biofuels and predictions
of impending restructurings
in one company or another.
“…can’t keep spending money... How can they keep her on…
…flies out every week…
district in Missouri… upgraded last month…
…a Crown Royale…great ride.”
Exotic musings to this little family of four
traveling down I-75
in the winter holidays.
And all the while,
snow is falling lightly,
from a wind so fierce the snow is
horizontal outside the window in front of us.

A giant log rolls by
adrift from upriver.
Roots barely visible above the waterline;
separated from its native soil,
Maysville perhaps, Pittsburg, Coney Island,
now in an unknown element and riding the currents.
Traveling south.
please note--art by Ian Walker, crystal microscopy


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