Before breakfast

Before Breakfast

Before the cars come. Before the vans start

cruising through the dank village in the early drizzle

Before the sparse and distant, but eerie piercing birdsong

Before the crackling of the ancient plastic guttering begins.

Before the first damp fingerprints of day touch on the windowsill

of a world outside, and resume tapping. Before the streetlamps

go limp. Before the emptying of bins. Before the milkman wakes up

the whole echoey estate with his bottley antics. Before the doorbell

goes nuts and the old woman starts to polish her redundant knockers -

In case god-knows comes calling. Before brass inspection, I imagine.

Before the post declares us randomly selected for some offshore holdings

Before the rotating sequences of dogs barking. Before squadrons of kids

start dragging their feet, and coughing the whole five yards to the fuming

motorcar. Before the builders decide to turn up. Before the lorryload arrives.

Before the day has begun to kick me properly out of bed. Before I touch myself

unpleasantly with prejudice again. Before I target something. Before I hurt someone

Before I spend all day chasing a thing of beauty. Before I accidentally kick it in the head.