Morpheus sauntered in early last night.
Cozied up to me in an all-too-familiar fashion
— which I permitted, and after only one beer! —
And whiled away the time
Whispering passing stories in my ear,
The sort half-heard and not really attended
Until last call
When with those fateful words
— Be right back—
he left me.
He was my ride.
So I waited
For his return
Listening to the sound of stillness
And counting the cars on the darkened street on one hand
Just as I can feel the day about to breathe awake
I catch a ride that seems important
But is short-lived.
In the light,
I cast about for a memory,
Like trying to catch snowflakes in the sun
I am left wandering the kitchen
Looking for my coffee,
Feeling the ache in my rib cage from the corset I was wearing
In some dream out of time.