He took to his coffee, with blue pursuit.
Sitting by a gull gathering, he just
listened. He wasn’t in much mood for errands.
Nor for his work. But it had to get done.
Why weren’t the papers grading themselves, he
thought. Looking for time. Thin sun strip felt on
upper lip. This would all be recolored
soon. Unseen shade. He spilled his cup
onto the pebbles, walked away from those
edible waves, thinking of the stacks at
home. “Okay, now I’m ready,” he told himself.
But should he stay for a couple more sounds?
Yes. They were his present time measure, one
gentle, not so jagged in repetitions.