sipping my day-off coffee
considering day-off bourbon
staring into tuesday
looking for words
in my sugar bowl
kurt vonnegut spins around
in the empty chair
across time
and reminds me
he has no country
or life in his body
i pass him the half and half
he defers for whole milk
he tells me he lived too long
to be dead
and still unsure about dairy
i present your dilemma
a request for a swift firing squad
and he suggests a friendly musket
i agree
as it displays
merciful sang-froid