My afternoon porch muddied with your FedEx envelope.
X-ray vision tells my tummy what happened – “You’ve been served”
Not a warrant or a bill collector,
but a feckless threat from a neckless father.
Day full of loading screens,
            mouse clicks,
                    and hold songs.
No way to know if I’m dying or just hungry.
Pie charts showing what I owe and how far (not far) I’ve come. 
Feline premonitions preempting anxiety attacks with headbutts and tail thumps.
Butcher paper slick with wax and vinegar – lunch meat satisfaction.
Restless feet overpower week knees and drag me outside.

Bakery bread made with the same chemicals as yoga mats,
as stars.
Burning for a father’s love – any father but mine.
Grateful for a too-warm sun which reminds me
that God sees me when Man refuses to look. 
Love surrounds me and attacks without warning; I am hopeless against it.
Stormtroopers and Sith Lords lie terrified before me,
but showers are too cold these days if you forget to get hyped first.

Tumble weeds of ginger hair plucked with vanity or to scratch a deeper itch.
The deep peace of sharing a stranger’s smile. 
My morning fortification of a Crayola breakfast.
Yielding to a mother with a stroller is no sacrifice.

New sneakers, crimson, all arch support and clean laces,
cushion my ever forward fall, until I land where I ought to be.

You cannot take this from me. You do not have anything I want. 

I am.