Fat and sugar,

salt and caffeine

lift me

when they hit

the bloodstream.

So, I make

Sunday breakfast

for family.

Eat sausage while it cooks.

Sip fresh ground blonde roast.

Listen to Holiday Classics

and my son,

as he tells my wife

about his late-night


eating burgers, broccoli,

chili, rice,

and chips.

watching college football

with weightlifting friends.

The dogs rumble,

Wrestle at my feet,

then run

room to room,

humping hard.

It’s a contest,

I guess.

Establishing dominance.

I salt and pepper the eggs,

turn them,

start the toast,

and my daughter




down the stairs.


the fat, gray cat

walks through,

paying no mind to us.

He meows, meows, meows

as his belly sways and

dusts the hardwood floor.  

With a great leap,

he is on the table,


for nobody

to feed him.

~ K.J.

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