saturday afternoon kitchen

the midafternoon sun
sits
in the windowsill
like an old friend.
i wear it
like a blanket.

all i have
is this coffee
and some thoughts
that evaporate
with this light.

there's a tiny fly,
stuck,
between the screen
and window,
trying to find
a way out.

i open the window,
light another smoke,
and the tiny fly
has found an out.

i take another sip
of coffee
as i stare
at the backporch door.