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.