Back to the grind
I drive at the crack of dawn
Dragging yesterday's heartbreak
Lifting today's routine
And pushing tomorrow's anxiety

But steam rises from my sandwich
Walking down a pale carpet of Spam
Amid fluffy scrambled eggs and warm bread
She shivers in the car's AC
Her lithe form unfettered from all this worry

On her little stage she arabesques and pirouettes
Bathed in golden sunlight
With diffuse legs and arms
A routine written by thermodynamics
A spectacle only she and I know

This performance will last for the next thirty seconds
Already time is impatiently tapping its foot
But the steam cares not, for this is all she has
And there, waiting for the traffic signal
I am in the moment.