Breakfast with David Duchovny

David Duchovny cracks
an egg & the sun rips.

His coffee percolates
leaching heavy metals. 

What time do you call this?
He says, when I fall down

all bashed-up & rock scraped.
His pets secure me to the chair.

There must be a mistake, I say
but Duchovny pretends not

to understand. Que?
David Duchovny cuts soldiers

into toast, dips them
into his egg. He sets the table

with a dull brass Bauhaus
coffee service. On the surface,

Russian mothers tell their children
be home before Duchovny is out.

In parts of the Pacific Rim
they’ve known for centuries 

that earthquakes are caused
by his hangovers.

This morning, he seems calm
serene. His dressing gown 

falls open as he sits. He sips
a cup of sulphureous coffee.

So, how do you envision the end of time?