insignificance relative to self

uncertain of a.m. specifics
i’m pretty sure this clock is
two hours fast

don’t like having the window
when it’s morning nippy
like this
but, the strangeness of people-faces
help the writing

their oddness shapes this symmetry
the equilibrius of humanity
normalizes with its many variants

a row of bumpers
minds leaping ahead to the next light

occupants of automobile cabins
dot the roadways by the hundreds
all jockeying through intersections
calculating complicated maneuvers
elbows reflexively attached to the device

edged on by whatever ritual

it isn’t always clear
but there isn’t really an expression
that emotes, completely,
the inner paradigm of thought
with early morning shuffle
hurriedly dressed
with mix-matched socks

at least not before coffee

i see a gray Silverado
cued at the light, driver staring
into the middle distance ahead
He, like the one behind, the one behind
and so on
blank stares
already organizing work routines
before the lunch bell

Sun still low on the horizon

© Emerys Watchel, 2016 All rights reserved.


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