poem 1

Disturbed by the morning sun
a look at the time, got to run.
Out of the shower in three minutes
clamoring across the familiar routes.
Of course, running late again today
knowing I don’t want to join the fray.
Now in the car, must turn the key
to fulfill my role as faithful employee.
Damn these cars I’ll never get there
and I’m pulling out the last of my hair.
Finally I’ve reached my personal hell
to spend all day being as a gazelle.
Springing from the left and the right
asking morons “would you like more Sprite?”
Constantly eyeing the clock on the wall
all the while suffering nicotine withdrawal.
The day wraps up after counting my dough
and already I’m dreading tomorrow.