Dawnwalkers

1.
Shops unlocking.
Morning drops.
Cream and coffee.
Ruined stockings
on the way
to the office.
Breakfast missed.
Slept in.
Grocery lists
unfulfilled again.
Bank hours.
School bus,
bullies, bruises
and bad dreams.
Bad teachers.
Blossoms.
Birds of paradise.
Bacon.
2.
Blue water in the morning.
Fluoride.
Floss. The postman.
The cock. The dew.
The old. The lazy.
The dawnwalkers
swinging their arms.
The drug addicts.
Morning alcoholics.
Men in suits
handling the news.
The blues
lightening up
after a long night.
The jazz musicians
looking for
a good joint
that’s still [...]

Dawnwalkers, cont.

3.
The washer.
The dishes.
The hair dryer.
The curling iron.
The sudden sirens.
The traffic.
Napkins, straws,
paw marks, safety pins,
cuffs and hems.
Biscuits and gravy.
Fog. Waffles.
Long walks
after midnight
turned into hikes
in the hills.
The brakes.
The spills.
The shakes.
4.
The remnants
of argument;
heartache, mascara,
lipstick, hangnails.
Relatives in jail
enjoying the morning.
The sunrise.
Time.
The rails
all full of trains.
The rain.
Defrost.
Appointments.
Lost.
Checks.
Toast
and butter