I boot
hygiene in BIOS
jmp shower
goto work

Morning.
The smell of damp soil
driving in the dark with windows down
we are all only eyes now.
The nervous red blinking of a biker
the shining white shoes of a jogger

Another grey Monday
silent lightning in the distance
dead hawk on the side of the road
looks larger, less regal than in flight
discarded carcass bloated and ruffled.
Unseeing eyes now point to the skies
while uncaring commuters race by.
The corridor which carries me to work
lies in that balance between rustic and urban
where neither man nor nature feel quite at ease.

Driving behind a charcoal colored GrandAm
Sticker on the back among the rivulets of dew
reads "In Loving Memory"
of someone like Tim Leviticus Horton
wisps of smoke rising from the window
a hand taps a cigarette
now motioning "What the fuck!?"
as the driver encounters some traffic
he catches the lucky side of a light turning red
and I lose him

the grey Altima blends into the fog and mist
a dainty black gloved hand is out the window and agitated, taps the roof
he moves to the right to let a school bus change lanes

Sometimes I feel not quite ready for this world
then I look around and see
that the world is filled with clowns and children
those that admit it and those that deny
afraid of their own absurdity
nervously chuckling at mine

The clock I drive past says 6:00
I am tempted to stand in the street
in my red converse and anarchy t-shirt
to watch all the lights to the east
turn from blinking yellow to solid green
but it also said 32 degrees
and three of my fingers are numb
I go inside.