Sunday morning. A picture of a couple lying in bed. The cat, the newspaper.
Soft shade. Jazz. Fruit on a white plate.
This is not my picture. My picture is not this one of communion.
Dishwasher packed and turned on; I shoulder a bag with camera and notebook.
A walk to Starbucks. Café if you want to call it.
I’m preparing a text for the mind to keep afloat.
Abreast with this mantra people will whisper he is a new man.
A picture of a man in good state.
I will use this mantra to finish laps in the pool. This mantra will kick in when my alarm clock goes off.
I like to think of myself as one prepared not too look left or right.
I will stick to the business of repeating the mantra.
They will say - he understands the meaning of the word Surrender.