I woke early on a Sunday morning
around five or
six
and I thought to myself
"this is ideal."
Like most nights I experience
I was awake while the
world slept
but on this occasion,
the promise of a day
lingered in front of me.

So after re-heated coffee
from the day before
I hopped into my old truck
and went for a drive
on roads populated only
by the silence of a morning
and me

All the streetlights changed for
me, and each cigarette
exploded only for me
a show in the dark hours
of the morning
and I drove around
this way, until the sun started
to rise
showing the light of the morning dew
the weeping earth