Enraged alarm clocks and five-alarm insomnia.
Sweet morning kisses and to-do lists gone stale.
Coffee brewing, babies burbling.
The final vespers of a pale moon and ghost-souled airwaves of pain playing across ravaged cityscapes.
Oraclegush of fortune’s fire hydrant and the Tiffany-slippered footfalls of first light.
Cars and bicycles stripped and stolen, birds singing like they got a degree from the University of Bliss.
Mildewed wash hanging out to dry on a cat’s ninth life.
The exquisite corpse of dreams remembered growing more vibrant by the moment—
all the lights and darks on the keys of early morning’s piano.
RichRant 