quotidian
normalcy, like eating two segments of your friend's orange
after your vocab test
like looking out the window of a Starbucks placed
almost anachronistically
in the backyard of the forest
like sipping a too-sweet coffee and watching
the rain fall
like the barista telling you to have a nice day
because they're paid to, not because they care
like pulling your coat closer around your body
and huddling into yourself to avoid
the worst of the wind
like turning up the car radio so you don't have to listen
to the ghosts in your head
like everyday things and sunrises
that turn today into tomorrow
Categories:
anachronistically, winter,
Form: Free verse