where's my fountain pen?

Where's my fountain pen, now
that I'm writing again.
I have stacks of postcards waiting
to be sent to my mother, brother and sister,
thank goodness my father is dead,
to this friend and that, in French, Wolof and English..
to talk about nothing really, but what is happening now
unbaked cookies on a tray sitting next to me
my will power failing me.....
the pizza in the oven, I know the kale is burning a little
the quiet streets and working at home.
these are the things I will write
to my mother, my brother and sister,
to you, my friends.