Zoned out on a Monday morning
While the college station drones on,
A deep grumbling from hastily
Consumed buttered toast and coffee
Bubbles to the surface—a burp.
Passionless bleats from zombiefied
Speed demons wake me from my trance.
Where am I? How did I get here?
But then the engine’s lullaby
Returns me to my hypnosis.
One among the staggering horde
I traverse the city daily,
Sighing sad, cacophonous groans
Until finally the last vestige
Of the fortieth hour vanishes.
– August 8, 2013