Mornin’

a cup of black coffee

that’s been handed round

to pull us back from

university deadline cliff edges

and the fading sound of revelry,

sits barely sipped

on my lap.

my stomach still churns

when chirps

burn through

the curtains.

my thoughts are like the innards

of that gaping Fed-Ex truck:

stacked, scattered and

battered by brakes,

all stuffed

like an otter’s corpse

encased behind glass

and museum walls.

killer beats

have helped me cheat

every bloody mornin’.

but today, i’m diving

cordless

into enemy waters.

it’s quiet,

and i recline

with this peaceful

corner of the riot

a few more times.

then bus exhaust monologues

lift my spirits further.

their words carry my body

all the way to Europe,

and finally

let me fall

in love.