by Mikki Aronoff

This is not yesterday’s wither and whimper. Today I float inside a misty halo highlighting my
Word for the Day: eupeptic. In a conspiracy of kindness, the hallway mirror plays life coach,
spoon-feeds me a porridge of affirmations. Like your jacket. Lookin’ fine. Go get ‘em! I pack
paper, pens, tablet. Outside, gray. The locust tree sighs a shower of gold. Crows glide down,
skitter on sun-baked clay. Around the corner, the sweet smell of dark roasted beans and
cinnamon pulls me into the coffee house. Morning’s magnet. Hunkered down with a latte, I
discover a new poet, work thick with the finish of his life. I resolve to order all his books — a
reckless call as reading stacks up everywhere, rickles of guilt. But daily I wrap in sweaters pilled
with words, so I click “buy.” The barista crackles a name. Like yours, but not. Caffeine kicks me
outside and I sail into an unappointed day. My fingertips detect crisp leaves deep in my pockets.
Later, three suns, another halo, the promise of petrichor.


Photo by Josie Weiss on Unsplash