6:35 a.m. Not suffering. The quietest time
Of morning. I can hear a train rumbling
Miles away. A “Charles Pretzels” can serves
As a waste basket. The rodent digs
Litter under its spinning wheel. My senses say
Attack another expectation. Run by another
Temporary solution. I think I’ll make oatmeal.
I haven’t heard a thing happen yet.
The magnifying glass sleeps with the geode.
Maybe I want to run. It’s starting to lighten.
Birds by the millions, flying away. Vienna
Waltzes. Imagine never to hear Strauss again.
You are up and dressed and smiling. I gulp
Down my requirement of water. Prepare.
It’s amazing how easily things don’t rhyme.
Iggy Pop. Waltzes. The Spectrum.
Well anyway, it’s off to work. My legs are
Sending me a message. The begonias, white and red,
Guard my doorstep. The girls are still asleep.
That train is finally blowing through town, past
The wrecked iron works, past New Chicago
And the falafel place. It’s 6:50. I think
It’s safe to go outside. In the quiet rain.
Past the people who haven’t any plans.