to the bro
and sis and babe
(literally)
my appropriately named
prophet of fire
to wondrous acts
on the other
side
of the world
where the surf’s good
and the company
even better
the sky is blue
and the only white stuff
worth talking about
is the flat
non-foamed
warmth
you sip
with a double shot
of espresso
warming already warm hands
cupped round the
mug
just like the thought of your whole clan
warms my heart
in cold, snowy
alberta
i raise my
heavenly
flat white-filled
(to the brim)
mug
(both: scruffed and pottered)
to you
sipped rightly
and almost to the hour
between the morning
cup
and the afternoon’s
foamer
one more
jet-setting bro
and i’ll be without
kin
but perhaps
not alone
