Regular Poem: The Breakfast Nook

27 Apr

They took out the breakfast nook
years ago

and in those moments I remember it
those moments not unlike
coming home and as I’m unlocking the door
feeling a shudder in my soul
that I need to check
the answering machine
I don’t have
or that ghost of duty
that pricks me on a Sunday night
that I need to put the trash by the curb
but my trash day
hasn’t been Monday in 15 years

in those moments
I remember it
I remember
I don’t remember much about it

just flashes of images
of people sitting at it
drinking coffee
doing paperwork
reading glasses and trinkets
cluttering the whole corner

and I just want it
so badly
in those moments
when I remember it

a place
in the kitchen
to eat alone
and pay bills
and throw my mail
keep my laptop there
and fresh flowers
a perfect thing
for a spinster in a granny house.

They took out the breakfast nook
and I don’t remember why.
Sometimes I fantasize
I’ll find it
when I finally clean out the garage
and reinstall it
reinstate it.

How long would that take me
though?
How long
until it gives up
and rots beneath a shop vac and some old pool implements?
(They took out the pool
years ago
too
but pools are so expensive
so much maintenance
an understandable streamlining of assets
but a breakfast nook
just sits there
and serves you silently serenely.)

How long before
it’s just parts
instead of the breakfast nook
it used to be
(if it still exists
in the first place)?

How long before a queen
forced from her throne
living anonymously in the French countryside
starts making crepes
and forgets
how to respond when someone calls her
your majesty?

I should forget I ever saw its face.

They took out the breakfast nook.

Where?
What breakfast nook?

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