for those most fortunate
there will always come
mornings on sundays
moms in pajamas and
dads flipping pancakes
syrup traveling down wrists
freshly scooped coffee grinds
burned toast and a ruined
toaster oven and opening
windows opening doors
even though it’s december
and freezing to get rid
of the smoke and moms will
yell at dads for using too much
butter because how much do
you really need for one
waffle but dads will pretend
that the warning wasn’t heard
moms will roll their eyes and
pour another cup of coffee
two scoops of sugar
several shakes of creamer
several hours of cartoons
that make your insides
sore from laughing too hard
even though it’s the best
kind of injury
and somehow eleven-year-old you
before most of it
before everything can
see that this is