I wake up and it’s early
I can taste it in my mouth
or maybe it’s last night’s beer
yesterday’s wine
it’s too early for thinking
but then again
it’s always too early for thinking
too early or too late
better too late
I’m comfortable with too late
a clock shows me that it’s 11: 30
I knew it was early
but I’m too tired for sleep
I look out my window and see two pillows
sitting on my garden hedge
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem