Just Coffee Next Time

My keys were in my hand—Or did I imagine that?

I check my pockets, then the counter, then there—

the place I meant to put them. Anywhere.

Everywhere I was—where was I last?

I came for coffee. Today, they have bagels.

I read each one like a text—

The last thing I want for breakfast is regret.

Or something mislabeled.

Asiago. No!—Everything. You know what—Just make it a plain.

I start the laundry—pause—retrace the scene.

Did I already turned the dial?

I did. I did not put in the clothes piled

just in front of the machine.

The phone lights up. I leave it there

until the silence in it grows too loud,

and the “what ifs” begin to drown

my mind and I just need… air.

And still—I do the small things, as I can.

Not smoothly, not the way the world prefers,

but slowly, as I continue to learn

there’s nothing wrong with who I am.

Shit. I forgot the cream cheese.