Imagine being handed a jar of gobstoppers and a soda
when you were expecting an Époisses de Bourgogne
with a well-aged Sauternes, or better yet, misreading
Mills & Boon for Faber & Faber at the treen precipice
of Waterstones’ shelving, all because of Koit performed
by a Pierrot ensemble of seagulls, magpies, and crows,
when sleep hygiene wasn’t your forte to begin with.

People tend to call it everyday prose.

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More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com