t is 9 o’clock in the morning
and my brain is full of tongues
i woke
to a president’s plan
for an ailing economy
pressed through
a recalcitrant congress
ground finer still
by the pecking fingers of reporters
stuffed into the airwaves
like a sausage.
my dreams were cobweb
clinging in my mouth
I prayed
in the light
as I waited for the snooze
my dream persisted
like hope but soured
a sharp toothbrush punctures
my reverie
not unpleasant
i elect Ira Glass
soft king of my ear
for breakfast
a small truth
etched deep
into five acts
there is coffee
moving quickly
and I go
full
before the dawning fluorescence
i was predestined to arrive
a little late
i know how to empty myself
but where does it go?
time swept me
like the metro
from dream to dream
I can hear the chatter of water
above the beating of my heart
stop
for the love of god!
that
I can do.
later even
than I was before
but with more of me.