Stale morning
in a California suburb.
Cigarettes
kisses
breakfast
sweet glances
marijuana
clenched hands.
Asleep on the couch.
Cold morning,
warm thoughts.
Sun drenched eyes.
An 80's film on the television.
You bring a bowl of popcorn
and I can't help but feel
like there's nothing more important
than this bowl of popcorn
you've set down between us.
You always put too much damn salt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I was drifted in the retro surrounding, and awake later when I chew big chuck of salt in my popcorn. :) good write - I enjoyed it. :)