Head Rest

I want to eat Grape Nuts, in repose,
on my front porch – the one with the wilderness view –
and smell my best at my most active
I won’t ever let “them” see me sweat… I want
the best part of waking up to be Sanka
in my cup
and not
black snot encrusted in my nose, although
it blocks the sour failure of my Glad Plug-in
air freshener… removing my senses from the city
to the country of crisp breezes
and swaying wild flowers and not
to the country of sun-baked cow shit
and diesel exhaust
in the wide fields where wheat is cultivated
and stashed in breads, pasta and breakfast cereal
we can enjoy smiling and sexy in the dawnlight
I want a bath that is a luxury of warmth and bubbles
I want to be taken away from car alarms, jackhammers
and my own unleashed terror of screaming bratty kids,
unrestrained, undisciplined
slitting one another’s throats
as I, wonderful I,
soak in splendor and leisure
thoughtless as a floating frog
blinking against a deer fly
intent to use my head
for its place of rest
because of what other use is it?

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