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

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