Mornings at five 

Coming alive

Hop in hot bath

Soaking the parts



Out of bathwater steamed

Face flushed, but beamed

Towel dry all the wet skin

Wishing there had been



One to help with some spots

Knowing it's only dream, not

Part of any current reality ...

Only a wish and desire to be



Immersed in the love of another

Who wishes to share under cover

Backwashes, rubs and towel dries

All part of the ultimate life high ...



Bed unshared, then lazily made

Curtains opened, clothes laid

Over balcony rail until ready

To run downstairs to steady



Beat of radio's morning blast

Traffic conditions, news masked

In innuendo and gossip chatter

All provided by women catting



Coffee beans ground, water poured

Switch switched, thanking the Lord

For providing all of these pleasures

A full distance of good life measured



Socks last item of clothes to be donned

Seeing to it as the coffee-maker hums 

Huggng dog, patting her behind the ears

Socks finally on and so body gets into gear



Rushing over to grab a quick cup of brew

Before running out the door for dog's do

Suddenly choking hard on the entire gulp

As coffee goes down wrong hole in skull



Eyes tear up, upper body wracks with shakes

Rush over to sink, trying to spew out quakes

Nothing wants to come back out of throat

Sense of breathing loss takes over choke



Seemed like hours before it all stopped

Finally breath was restored and I popped

Back into the land of the living with a rush

Head sweating all over, and face all aflush



Rubbed myself down with tissue all around

Head and neck and nose stuffed and bound

Cleaned myself up, shaking all of the time

Cursing at dog for rushing me with her pines



Finally got myself quite all put back together

Then slid into boots and hat and leash tethered

Upon dog's collar after her dance round in circles

A little jig she performed in sympathy for my hurling



- Tristram



(c) Christopher W. Thomas

7:40am Tuesday March 31st, 1998