right before the sun is
dawning when the sky turns
bubble gum pink and darkness
begins to shrink all is

quiet. People snuggling
in their beds like caterpillars in
a cocoon missing the mystery of
this silence before they turn

on autopilot.  They scurry
like mice through walls and
floors going about their daily
chores. I cannot breathe after

eight, when the neighborhood
wakes. I'm like a cake falling in
the oven through the bustle and  
the shuffle and the early morning

hussle. Parents packing up
screaming kids. Watching people with
droopy eyelids clutching onto mugs
of coffee as if their life depended

on the rush of caffeine. How prosaic this
routine! Blaring horns, dogs barking and
men double parking robs me of my silent
reverie that time can only keep.