do you like waffles?

early morning bombardments?!
expert.
up and at 'em, secret super-surprisey,
extra-sunrisey,
wide-awakeful,
and awaiting a wonderful woman...
who showed up with a hot cuppa tea.
huh?
i dunno.
what the heck is arriving empty-handed?
(she also brought me brand new black tights;
that's a thing. i needed 'em. she got me 'em, nice!)
how did i find such a good one?
i kept my eyes open.
that's it.
what else would i do, really?
i cultivate coincidences,
and i cross my fingers that active participants cross my path.
raw uncut pure animal magnetism it isn't,
but,
over time,
the overlaps all converge for a good morning.
sooo,
y'know what happens when i have a.m. company?
oh.
well,
if you've ever visited in the morning,
then you probably do know all about it.
but,
if you've been a nancypantsed weak sauce diaperbaby
and stayed in bed at your own home in the early times,
then let me let you know what's up.
i show my appreciation for the ones who make an effort.
all you've ever gotta do is just show up.
real talk.
check the breakfast-type teleport:

waffles?
F*ing right, neighbors.
coconut and oatmeal and brown sugar and sour cream-ish,
all stirred up into one extra-buttery batter.
they get caramelized on the outsides like that.
that's also expert.
believe it.
cranberries and cinnamon and pecans all maple-glazed,
on top of grade B extra-thick maple hottness,
and a snowy blast of powdered confectioners action.
word.
i doo-doo that breakfast of champions sh!t,
but only for the good ones.
so, like, just how rad did they taste?
c'mon.
what are you?
an A*hole?
they were completely mutha-flippin' delicious.
obviously.
as if i was gonna make 'em suck sh!tballs,
and underimpress the bombardier in my kitchen.
no way.
duders,
i am really grateful for the few folks who
participate in this effed-up Folk Life i'm living.
the least i can do is make some kind of treats for 'em.
y'know?
woodsly goodsly activation.
that's what i want.
***********
oh,
and i tuned-up one more falafel last night.
because i couldn't resist.
yeah.
teleport:

yep.
hard styles surround me.
stump-creatures in light jeans,
and so much huntery camouflage,
and all of the dental hygiene you'd probably expect
from all of those wide-bottomed thick-browed cave-dwellers.
the fair, on a saturday night,
is a harder style than you'd expect.
a lot harder.
still,
i went, and ate,
and got turned around and around, and a little bit detoured,
on the roads that roll down the long way home.
that's true.
i traveled the starlight expanses of secret mountain passes,
for longer than i'd expected, in places and spaces i rarely visit.
it wasn't that bad,
but it wasn't exactly what i'd intended.
time-traveling only moves in one direction,
even when you've got to turn around and backtrack
along the paths you've taken on purpose or by accident.
it doesn't stop when you do,
and it all keeps really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....