it’s monday morning,
autumn, and the sun is out
it feels good to be awake,
at this moment life seems so simple
i should be lost in the woods
instead I’m sitting
in front of a computer
getting ready to slave away the day
my fly was unzipped and I didn’t even notice
i suppose it’s all a matter of perspective
we’re all fools sometimes
tell me how does a man
find peace in such servitude
routine and rage with
ramifications that ramshackle rationale
cold start,and a plan that rarely works
set to black shoes, day old coffee
and a stiff back
walking alone among the folks
curious and attentive
with nothing to give but cautious smiles
when i return home, to fire up the stove
and delete the day
i find myself wondering, and
again i turn to the wisdom of my cats