the humdrum-thump of the city
rolling over the pillow, falling off the bed
of dreams--enter:
the silent beauty of the sunrise
--

we down the infinite cup of coffee
to drown last night's hangover,
to cure the coma of the mundane,
gasoline daydream

i am stuck at an underpass
on north capitol, beneath
the new york avenuers
careening toward downtown cubicles,

a cacophony of screeching rubber
and horns transcending decibel levels
known to man - on the radio
kendrick laments about empty liquor bottles

--
our dreams filled with gasoline
we love the fire of the unfulfilled,
the out of reach, so much so
i wonder if the infinite cup of coffee

consumed in a rush hour screeching
to a halt at a perpetual red light
is but a feeble attempt to slip through
the cracks of light on the asphalt

to submerge into a daydream,
like the radio won't save my mind
from disintegrating into the wave
of cacophonous wisdom of 2 chains

blaring in the car next to me
--

daydream:

we shared wine
my glass half empty
to her runneth over

into my arms
of unguided expectation-
all of my days and nights

come into focus
through the mirror
of her eyes

--
essential:

i am going nowhere
so that i can be here
with the city

in all its sun,
its dreams, the noise
the hangover of last night's love

or the bottle, or both,
all here, behind the wheel,
chasing something new

or cruising toward
another long smooth
infinite coffee cup

tasting like the fall