I woke up at five am
only to journal and walk and coffee and journal again
(the second time with John Mayer)
writing two things:
about broken promises
that needs a rewrite for a happier ending
(my heart and my readers agree)
one ridiculously rough pre-first draft of a
humorous epistolic-essay-love letter
(it can’t make up its mind what it wants to be when
it grows up into a second, third,
final draft before being
submitted for editorial consideration)
about dating toilets.
If there is a better way
to spend a summer morning
I haven’t discovered it yet.
Nor do I want to.
Image courtesy of Pexels from Pixabay