I love the typical
because it is so predictable.
I love the blue sky in July
and the crazy yellow haze
of mid-September morning.
I love the typical.
The angry preacher.
The sobbing individual.
The quiet principle.
I love women reading poetry,
basking in cultural history.
Fingers sliding over wet red tongues
to polish the page turn
and offer gratitude
to an author
before she was born.
I love the typical.
The perfumed laundry.
The blue plastic bag.
The awkward sliding
in and out
of the young couple’s
roll in the sack.
I love the noisy interruption
of a perfect dream
and the passion of the barista
asking if I desire whipped cream.
I love the typical.
I love it.
I take it to bed with me
as a bright orange sheet,
twisting over the panic
of trying to get some sleep.

written on 06/06/2010 by: Matt Kane