Burnt Pancakes

I keep missing the sun,
so I’ve got a sun-bulb,
a mimic,
dragging me from restless sleep.
Modern solutions to save me
from my shortcomings,
technology to battle our reliance on technology.

Teeth brushed, showered,
time to work.
It’s all here at my fingertips.

We pay for convenience.

Pancake mix on a business call,
the griddle’s hot,
video call,
pour, sizzle.
Check my email,
check the griddle,
15 DMs before 10 a.m.
Flip.

Fires to put out,
phone calls to make.

I think of my ancestors,
grinding grain,
mixing it with stream water,
beneath the sun,
batter baking on hot stones.

I smell smoke,
then remember

I am out of syrup.