If We Collect All The Missing Hours

This morning I heard the sound of a text. I keep my phone on my window ledge so it is within arm's reach. But thanks to L.S., for the last two nights I have been sleeping on the opposite end of my bed. (I've been sleeping better!) She informed me that my feet shouldn't face the door so now they face my window ledge. I was unable to pick up the phone with my feet. So I fell back asleep. When I woke up I showered. On the way back to my room I had grapefruit juice in one had and french press in the other. I remembered my phone. I checked my phone. A text about consuming coconut toast. What do you know about coconut toast? Sounds like a perfect Sunday something to me. Today I will eat coconut toast, I will read, I will watch the UNC game. What are you going to do with your Sunday? Can I suggest that you eat a grapefruit. I hear they are going to be the fruit of Summer- you look like just the sort that enjoys getting a head start. One your mark. Get. Ready. Yes. Now. Peel. Eat.

Perhaps you want something to read while you eat? How about the new issue of Handsome? It's packed with buddies like Mathias Svalina, Raun Klassnik, Kate Greenstreet, Sommer Browning, and so many more.

or

there's the new ish of Sixth Finch which is straight heat.

or

to round out your reading there's the new ish of Cortland Review and you can decide how much you love or hate the Dickmans or if you're like me you'll bypass all that hoopla and go straight to Carl Adamshick's poem. I used to work with Carl's brother back in my Pdx days. Carl is a cool guy and a legit poet. I was happy have a glass of grapefruit juice, the scent of french press, a text about coconut toast, and an Adamshick poem to start my Sunday.