my life is not a poetic one
aside from the fact
that i made scrambled eggs for breakfast
and ate alone;
my husband already out the door.
the kitchen is a disaster,
i pushed plates to make room
to crack the eggs and beat them;
had to clear the stove of old pans
with pasta sauce stuck to the sides
before i could heat a pan enough
to introduce the eggs.
it'll probably be days
before we wash the dishes.