A Morning Commute by Chad Lahr

Awoke to the screaming of the alarm,

a small mechanical child on the nightstand,

who had caught fire and yelled to be put out,

he obliged and snuffed the cries with a fist

Shuffled to the shower, towel still wet,

lost footing on a noncommittal monogram bath mat,

ass cheeks met cold porcelain,

the first curse words of the day left his mouth

A toaster quite fond of the last two slices of bread,

held on to them for dear life,

until choking out black smoke across the kitchen,

“Eff it, breakfast at Starbucks”

Freshly washed paint on his car, decorated

by a feathered, flying, Jackson Pollock

who left a Rorschach test of patience

across the windshield of a black sedan

Hot, delicious, brewed breakfast in hand,

was all to eager to get to work inside,

burned the mouth behind the steering wheel,

then subsequently, a crotch

Not done with it’s mischief, the coffee

began to quickly move straight though the hero

suck in morning traffic as he cursed

the man who invented the roasted devil.

Finally pulling into the parking lot

plagued with double parkers, found a spot

and made it inside and thankfully,

to the executive bathroom in time.