The Low End of a High Rise

by Victoria Bruick

I'm sorry, but it is not on my agenda to be brave
today. Groggy sunshine makes the morning kind
of pathetic: my eyes don't open until cinnamon
cereal pours on my feet launching a milky waltz
to the bathroom. I find their cat's hair in the sink
again. Spend an hour contemplating my address.

After the daisies died I adopted a cactus to address
when reality TV bores. Yellow prickly fellow, brave
enough to give rooming with me a stab, won't sink
under my waves of forgetful rage. He's my kind
of guy, really: quiet in the mornings, doesn't waltz
in when I'm soaking. If only he made me cinnamon

toast as I read yesterday's news. The only sin of Man
I recognize is a disregard for quality toast. Address
your counter-argument to the cat. She'll casually waltz
away tail high, and I raise my eyebrow at any brave
remark against her. She's unwelcome but, to be kind,
I tolerate sad meows and grant her refuge in my sink.

Listen, they say a lot of things but loose lips sink
ships so I won't repeat these lines laced in cinnamon
that waft through the vents. I pretend I'm a kind
of undercover spy noting the barking man address
the dodgy blonde every Saturday morning. No brave
bone of mine (or the cat's) would propel me to waltz

to the police. The legal song and dance is one waltz
I avoid, thank you. I find socks stuck between the sink
and bathtub. Damn small apartment like the Brave
Little Toaster. Not enough electricity. Cinnamon
colored curtains (were they ivory?) don't address
the lacking light problem. Now December, a dull kind

of shadow lingers from sun up to sun down, kind
of makes you want to con the sunshine with a waltz
to a deceptive cadence too bad the star's address
is a few postal codes away. Mom's heart would sink
at the sight of these towering tipsy boxes of cinnamon
squares, but this is freedom baby, home of the brave

and all that jazz. Tonight I think I’ll waltz, cinnamon
on my breath, to bed and listen to my spirits sink kind
of like last week’s slush outside this not-so-brave address.

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