The house is still in slumber
I peak out my window and the sun peaks back
Dawn.
I pick my layers and dig for change
A Banana Rep sweater, a Lee denim jacket, and $6.75 in various coins.
I tuck my jeans into and lace up my boots while music plays in my ears
Arctic Monkeys.
I head out the door
It's cold out and an elderly cyclist crosses in front of me at a steady pace
The smell of cigarette smoke dances into my nostrils
I breathe in
Soon that will be me.
I make it to the 7-Eleven and greet good morning to a homeless man who had just woken up
Please don't let that be me.
I go inside and ask for Marlboro reds
Ah, Death's satin dress.
The clerk tells me to quit
I smile to hide my irritation and tell him, "Maybe."
As I head home, I spark one of Death's twenty porcelain fingers
It's still cold out
Yet I sacrifice my right hand's comfort for another drag.
It's going to be a good morning.