when sundays begin at sunrise with a bike ride to the market for tomatoes and eggs and perhaps some berries. i will stop on the way home to pick wildflowers and pet the neighborhood dogs, but not for long because the breakfast cake must go in the oven! the espresso will brew and the eggs will poach and i'll dance to the punch brothers and iron and wine in my big fat sunny brooklyn kitchen.
when my people arrive, we'll sit for hours and discuss time and meaning and sentiment. we'll stuff ourselves silly and laugh till we pee. we might even take a stroll or sit in the grass.