Good Morning World

I love sitting in the morning sun with my coffee and my cigarette and, more often than not, Missy curled by my feet. It's like the pit stop between wake and sleep. I watch my cigarette's smoke float up blue, in the morning air. When the wind isn't blowing, it builds wrought iron lattice work to the sky. When the wind is blowing, it streams off like blown from a turbine engine.

I curl my toes to warm them on the cold paving. I close my eyes and watch the sun dance inside my eyelids, orange.