In Your Cappuccino World

In Your Cappuccino World

How long has it been
since you watched a bent sunflower
raise its face to the morning sun?
Or listened to cornstalks whisper
in endless, quiet, afternoon fields?

How long has it been
since you wrote down a phone number
with your child's favorite majenta crayon
on a scrap of paper from the coloring book?

All your images are American Express.
You know the concierge at the airport
Hilton, by his first name.
You have come to expect the same shiny
Sebring convertible to greet you at the
Airport rent-a-car, every bi-weekly visit.

You know the mint will be on your pillow.
You can't believe in Kansas anymore.
You've lived too long in big cities
with your cappuccino mornings
and four long-distance phone calls
during an intimate dinner.

It means nothing to you, no difference
hustling the big deals over Bailey's cream
You can't believe in solitude.
It isn't in the monthly plan.
There's no commission in it for you.

Well, I hate to clue you in, hon'
But, the sun still sets low in the sky
with its oranges, reds, and touches of purple.
Even when you don't watch it.

Rainbows still kiss your eyelashes on
dewy wet mornings in early Spring.
Ducks still wait on simple, quiet ponds
for someone to throw breadcrumbs.

You just miss those things
In your cappuccino world.