eggs floating in my coffee,
today I will let it all go
just to see what stays.
between cobra poems
and outer space,
I am just a boy.
proud of work,
but still wishing,
maybe today will...
please, gimme a second dream,
a third face,
a fall and a rise.
this time next year,
I want to look back and laugh
with delight and pride.
on a simple future morning,
no eggs in the coffee,
cinematic in awakening.