by chantal laforge, contributor
The world belongs to me
in increments of 2.50
because that’s the price of coffee.
In which case, 2:50 was 13 minutes
before I woke up and stayed awake,
thinking all the while of the smile
on your face that was never meant
for me. Maybe one day, that will
change. I used to be afraid of change,
which is usually 2.50, also, but it
doesn’t seem so scary anymore.
It is palpable, if not entirely
welcome, even when I wake
up in the middle of my peace, or
13 minutes later, give-or-take.
Maybe 2.50 is what it costs me
to fuel thought entirely and maybe
that will change for inflation and
restless nights show scattered signs
of life in me. But that’s alright.
Time advances. Your face
will change to someone else’s.
2:50 happens every morning.