Monday, September 16, 2013

Monday Morning

awake to urgency, I must
make it to the urinal on time
then let the dog outside
to relieve his urge as well.
the moon slices the sky
and hides the dawn riders,
the bugs and the bats who fly
one last round before the sun rises.

I look up and wonder what I am
seeing: are those four lights
the stars of the big dipper or
are they planets or planes
moving slowly? one flickers,
a flying object. it passes and three
random specks are left.
oh well, I will find the big dipper
another day...

in one hour, I will be
entombed in corporate life
where nothing flies or flickers
or pisses on the grass.



(PS.. I don't actually use a urinal. That word just seemed to fit the poem better.)

1 comment:

lime said...

one may debate the use of urinal but entombed is spot on!