There is
Terror in
The morning
Especially the
Summer when
The light lasts
The sun springs
Up at 630. Counted
A thousand
Stars before that.
When I wake
I'm scared
My muscles
Twitch in
Witchy circles
I bolt from bed like
A crazy baker
Trying to save
A burning
Cake he left
In the oven
Overnight. My
Dreams consist
Of ex lovers
Traveling in
Large semis,
Impossible buses
And aeroplanes.
We're always left at the
Same place: a lame
Ranch house
Below the Sandias
Where we find
Curios, maps, jewelry
That costs a fortune.
But the machine
Is always broken,
We cannot
Go anywhere.
There is the shaking
The hard shaking
In my legs and arms
As I wake consider
My day: A long
Drawn out sun,
Some rain after
A walk, stop
Running away.
