Ramble: Zero to Sixty

shattered the morning with coffee again
broken mug patterns of ceramic and cream
Guatemalan grind bitter black dreams
it rarely ever gets better than this

I used to think
there'd be someone
who would laugh
along with me at 
my clumsy mess

empty voice echoes off hot shower walls
Ella Fitzgerald lyrics rinsing the blues
drip slap staccato showerhead spray 
washing cold morning down through old pipes

lonely is how I am
solitude is what I have
soft cotton towels
warm from the dryer
my only caress

hollow spring rain on patio doors
tip-tap trickle tapping inside my brain
February fading flooding away 
discarded bags in gutter and drains

store bought
chocolate cupcake
cellophane wrapped
topped by wax candles
six decades of stale wishes 
all blown away. 

2 thoughts on “Ramble: Zero to Sixty

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