Another Day Poem by robert dickerson

</></>Another day. Having fed the bird, made the bed
And picked up last night's mess of socks and
Smallclothes, there is nothing left to do but trot
To the kitchen and get along with coffee.

Soon the siphoned water is burrowing through
The salt-strewn grounds, trickling down,
Down to the pyrex pot, color like times a-changing,
Odor stronger by far than any greenhouse..

Help yourself. But here in the counter-corner there
Is a wee city of vitamins and what nots-vials,
Stacked, multiple and Oz-like, reaching to the kitchen's
Middle air, that I know must be taken now, or else...

Or else? Nah! For me there's no 'or else'. Real but no
Fool, I'll do anything well-recommmended,
And this year vitamins are in-right? Truth? Or industry ploy
To get your cash? I believe all I read in the Times.

Oh, Lana! Here's resveratrol, the vera fountain of youth
Eternal, normally kept in the frigidaire but somehow
Left out overnight. It's lost it's chill, I hope it's alright.
It certainly costs enough and is totally non-refundable.

And here, the anti-oxidants, the cancer-preventors,
A, C, E and something else, I forget what, maybe zinc-
All strung out, they remind me of that funky Rimbaud poem-
About vowels? ('A'-shimmering girdle of black flies) .

Here are the B's separate, in combo, very important
Since we left the farms, all, and moved to the cities.
Uncap those B's now, take vigorous whiffs-whew! A
Vitaminous smell! Nothing quite smells like B.