poem letter

Already hot up here in office, home.  Need a coffee, as always.  Want just one day, ONE, where everything’s at speed ordered.

Past authors, how did they get to the Road?

Do I have time to study?

Turning on music, trying to distract mySelf.

Bringing homework with me.

What else can I do, work on lunchBREAK.

Sounds funny, doesn’t it.

Looks even funnier.

But I need to leave ground.

I have these wings,

and for what?

Hear traffic.  Are they all in roles mirroring?  Maybe I should write for them, not me anymore.  Definitely not some webbed house.

Not living like that.

Counting pennies, nickels, ones.

Almost there.