Sweet Life Patisserie

Looking for meaning we are interrupted
by a small girl asking four basic questions
dancing on and off the chair opposite.

Two tables over her father feeds baby brother.
What are you eating? she asks first.
Quiche, I say. Made of eggs. Like a pie.

Clock? she says, tapping my watch.
Yes indeed it has a small clock face.
What's that? moving closer, touching

the point of my pen. That's a pen, I say
but now her small index finger arches
emphatically down onto my open journal

and I start to answer but she runs away
leaving me with my list for the day.
Eat. Look at the time. Take my pen. Write.