BREAKFAST WITH OATMEAL

It is a morning for coffee, eggs and bacon.
But since the doctor has forbidden me
the pleasure of life’s small vices,
I eat my hot oatmeal, grimacing as I wash it down
with bland, watery decaf.
Upstairs I hear my wife’s feet
shuffling towards the bathroom.
I read the morning paper while I finish my oatmeal,
passing over the bad news for the sports page,
then the funnies.
I hear the toilet flush just as I reach
Pearls Before Swine.
My wife stumbles into the kitchen
looking as if she might really be on the hunt
for some tasty brains.
I distract her with oatmeal and decaf.
The oatmeal looks very much
the way my brain feels most days.
As she sleepily spoons the mushed cereal
into her gaping maw,
it suddenly occurs to me
that as much as we’d all love
coffee, eggs and bacon,
most of the time,
we have to settle for oatmeal.