The air in the subway station
smelled like so many early morning
grade school lunchrooms.

Plastic cereal boxes
juice cartons
mild anxiety

you're gonna be late for the second time this week.
Sugar Smacks...
you recognize it now
but there's no one eating them.

Last night you exploded in the revelry of
past-time prophesy,
bearing fruit in
four dimensional
meat-space

your brain took this shift
in cosmic head-bang fashion
flipping switches and cranking gears
for an endless procession of
twitch neck muscle jerk
padded wall prattle
and the braty-ness
of a sixteen year old girl

"I'm painting!"
stopped an advance and
set the scene

A whole house caught
in a blue haze
your mind wandered
lustful and proud

a one handed angel
guided by fear
rekindled your ability
to self-render love

you fumbled with your shoes
this morning and missed your bus
it's back to autoMelton
and another day of
blank-stare moonbeams
roasted turkey nightmares
and the notion of
a better tomorrow.