I awakened to the same sounds and the same setting of the same scene

––early Wednesday:

there was nothing prepared and the only thing that would’ve been

is coffee dripping into its vessel when its timer is activated which it wasn’t.

the mound of clothes in the hamper smelled as if dampness was a festering wound.

––what's left to consider before total consciousness;

before my sensibilities have had a chance to make a modicum of sense;

before time begins its march to the sink?

––somewhere someone's in need of medical attention.

certain catastrophes fill the phosphorescent airways on a loop.

God displays its unique sense of humor with each passing moment.

––later comes the bridge between ones occupation and filling

the space of time with anything which comes to mind.

and here I sit as much a part of the world as any man, or groundhog, or any one

of those crazy elementary particles passing through solid structures

to get to who knows where, to do who knows what, to who knows who?

––Basta! I’m thinking far too clearly for my own good this Wednesday.

I'll tune-in to channel 56, linger there with the angelic weather girl

pointing the way to low-lying clouds and later, I'll allow some time

for Wednesday night to show its all too familiar face.