Michael worked from home, today,
which means bacon and eggs and naan.
I’ve spoken to him before about
the truth of wheat toast, but he remains
unconvinced. All of us sing in our
own ways. For some, it’s a dirge.
For others, a call to eat.
Steph invited E and I to breakfast
Saturday with her and Donna. We’ll
be in the middle of packing, which
means yes, of course, at the bougie
French place over where all those
rich people’s kids live. It was Steph’s
birthday recently, which means I’ve
got to bring a gift. I know the perfect
book, but it’s already packed. The real
problem is I’ve done too good a job
of gift-giving in the past. When you do
things, people expect you to keep doing
them. They say life is all about baby
steps, but tell that to the bank. The shattered
egg has to put himself back together. Do
you really think a bunch of horses
and bureaucrats will help? Mostly, they’ll
try to assign blame and then leave
on break. This is the way of bureaucracy.
When E was little, she didn’t even crawl.
She scooted, hand up to grab the world.
I would like to say I’m not worried.
Raised on a rice and catfish farm in eastern Arkansas, CL Bledsoe is the author of more than twenty-five books, including the poetry collections Riceland, Trashcans in Love, Grief Bacon, and his newest, The Bottle Episode, as well as his latest novels Goodbye, Mr. Lonely and The Saviors. Bledsoe co-writes the humor blog How to Even, with Michael Gushue, located here: https://medium.com/@howtoeven His own blog, Not Another TV Dad, is located here: https://medium.com/@clbledsoe. He’s been published in hundreds of journals, newspapers, and websites that you’ve probably never heard of. Bledsoe lives in northern Virginia with his daughter.