Parenthood

Can someone hold my child?
I am so completely enraged,
I probably should not
Be near him currently.

There is a wide, black trail of
Instant Coffee, running from
My kitchen to the bedroom.
Across my new white carpet.

My husband said he calls it,
“The Trail of Tears.”
Someone should hold him, too.
In case this becomes a rampage.

Deep breaths.
Deep, cleansing breaths.
Maybe a glass of Chardonnay.
It’s better now. Somewhat.

It’s just a very messy line.
It will all come out in the wash.
It’s not really grounds for murder.
It’s not even grounds for divorce.

Grounds.
He he he he.
I crack me up.
I better start cleaning.

Mo(u)rning

Woke up my laptop this morning,
Immediate Blue Screen of Death.
Time to go make coffee,
Then stop and catch my breath.

A cold and dead laptop.
This is not how to start a day.
Of course, it means a half-hour
To restart and pray.

I really hate Windows.
Every version seems slower.
My expectations were low,
But they’re falling still lower.

My company wants me to upgrade.
“Go to Linux”, they said.
But their products are on Windows.
It’s really hurting my head.

The coffee is ready,
My laptop is restarted.
It’s time for the morning,
Not for the faint-hearted.

Wondering

We have a Cocker Spaniel.
His name is Murphy.
Murphy is chocolate colored,
With blonde tendencies.

Still, Spaniels are intelligent.
They were bred to retrieve.
Hunters would hunt woodcocks,
Cockers would bring them back.

So, Cockers have good eyes,
The ability to find small items,
And a soft mouth to carry it.

(Murphy actually has bad eyes,
And he can’t find much,
But still.
)

I don’t have any woodcocks handy.
There aren’t any dead birds in the yard.
Plus, Rocky would get to dead birds first.

So, I thought Murphy could be retrained.
Yet, he refuses to bring me coffee.
Maybe if I get a bird-shaped mug.

Hotel Coffee

Sacred brown water,
Daily Water of Life,
Why do you taste so strange?

I brewed you so gently,
Just like coffee back home,
Yet your taste has changed.

Maybe it’s the water, 
Fresh from the hotel tap,
Flowing almost brown alone.

Maybe it’s the coffee,
A little single-pot bag.,
From a brand completely unknown.

Still, it’s coffee. My coffee.
It’s enough to start my day.
At last, I can remember my name..

It will get me all the way downstairs.
To cups of restaurant coffee.  
Then, I’ll be back in the game.