unforgettable

i reluctantly wake each morning

just before the vermillion

and peach pit of the sky

bleeds out a warm honey

that drips through the slits

of my dusty blinds

i am always forgetful

of the day before

my mind blanketed by

the same insignificant thoughts

as other mornings

at least they are consistent:

which coffee will i get today?

an iced vanilla latte with

cinnamon sprinkled on top

because it is the cheapest.

which worn out crewneck

will keep my frail body the warmest?

the one stitched with the university

i was never able to attend.

which day soon will i wake

to the absence of my dog’s crooked smile

as his old calloused paws

wet with october morning dew

skip toward the door

where he says his silent, dreaded goodbye.

i wonder why persistent thoughts

that inspire me to write again

eagerly dissipate before i ever get

the chance to scribble them down

like the fog that weaves between

slowly decaying oak leaves

as new morning light bounces off them

to cast shadows on my face

my half hour drive to work

lonesome

but at least i have the sun

to kiss me good morning.

i frown at the jet black skid marks

that paint the highway with sorrow

no one ever pays attention

the resting, mangled fawns

can attest to this sentiment

i question how the car behind me

is in more of a hurry than i

ninety miles per hour north

i have only five minutes left

to be on time

(but i am never on time)

smashing pumpkins and chili peppers

flood the cold silence

between my empty leather seats

i am drowning

yet the eluded conversation

still prevails in my mind

i have run out of insignificance

and am forced to finally remember

why i cried myself to sleep last night