It took me 27 minutes to get to work, spilled java grounds
all over my shirt as told to you from outside view of
the birds.
Open All Night by Bruce Springsteen was playing, the horizon was a faded hospital grey flooring color of a scarred driveway
needing to be paved.
Coffee drunk eyes on this morning's sunrise
are all that I have.
Sunlight jumped up, a jackhammer brought back to life as we sit in our metal pillboxes and traffic putzes. We shrug our shoulders like upset parents at a gymnastics event and ask the world sometimes, what gives? In a place
where most mortals take.
I wonder if angels ever shrug, but still,
they watch over us.
Which is a good thing.
Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she chirps down coffee while scrawling lines. Her work has appeared in many places, but most recently at Ex Ex Lit, and Duane's PoeTree site.
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