toast miles at the brek-café

I am
the morning crowd
downtown
at the brek-café

‘cino steaming
a hiss
a gurgle
somewhere behind me

strange

I
alone
at brek-café

you are on the road
I
still here
behind you

you
eating miles

to my
piece of toast
and sunny-side
fried eggs

I’ll see you
tonight
I’ll see you
in the morning

fried eggs
long miles

toast for breakfast
alone
in brek-café


© Frank Prem, 2017

September 2017 Poem #7: scaling

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