The Morning After

Mar 10, 2008 - 19:02 PM PST

He sits Indian-style on the couch --
one sock on, the other hiding somewhere
among the haven't-been-washed-for-weeks sheets.
The morning news lost to our munching,
Cheerio-crunch in our ears. He eats
his cereal without milk in the same blue bowl
with balloons floating on the rim.
He squishes his nose into wrinkles,
sniffs and snorts away last night's leftover goo.
"Good Brea-fast," he spews the oats
from his mouth, settling into
his blue bathrobe, the suede sofa,
my bare knee.
I smile, put my head on his shoulder,
he kisses my hair
with Cheerio-powdered lips.