Breakfast, hello, America, // I am in Boston.
Sunlight filters through the semi —
Transparent curtains into the room,
Behind transparent glass walls.
Green plants fill the bookshelves, // non-renewable,
Seagulls perch on the terrace, // watching, waiting.
On the plate, yellow eggs, // green avocados,
Orange salmon, pink and white.
Wine glass on the // dining bar has been replaced,
By a coffee machine, // dense life, woody fragrance,
Charcoal grilling, clinging to the cup wall, // remains,
Leaving traces of life // from the classical era.

Sounds only leave room numbers, // names unknown.
Shadows on the floor, moving,
Listening to murmuring sounds, // on wooden tables,
Glass cups and forks clink, // simple, ding-ding……
Indistinguishable, discovering conversation,
finding light and tea // leaves sinking in cups,
Naturally, letting life continue, // in the shadows.

I see someone, cutting salmon // with a knife and fork,
Myself, from the reflection of metals,
Look at the faces on the wall, // indigenous,
Smiling even when not being watched, // endless.
Straight, pausing the typing motion,
Watching the blue sky, // planes taking off and landing,
For about half an hour.
Until the body stops putting more life // into the plate,
greedy and relentless.
Green plants, hide in books, // freedom, food,
Hello, America, my breakfast.