Alone, My Mother Still in Bed

Alone, My Mother Still in Bed
Under the circumstances, I suppose it’s only natural to be craving scrambled eggs, and to wish to eat them in a diner far away, maybe in Montana, or on the way to Abilene. How strange it seems, I can almost taste them now. More coffee, please, I was on the road all night. And the waitress smiles as if she knows exactly where I’ve been, and is glad to see I made it out alive. *July 9, 2006* Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author	Main Page Author’s Note Background Notebook A Listening Thing Among the Living No Time to Cut My Hair One Hand Clapping Songs and Letters Collected Poems Early Short Stories Armenian Translations Interviews News and Reviews Highly Recommended Let’s Eat Favorite Books & Authors Useless Information Conversation E-mail & Parting Thoughts Flippantly Answered Questions
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