Mornings shouldn't be like this

I am beginning to look like a panda. Or a vampire. Dark rings around the eyes. Grumpy replies.

Recently , I have been going back to the office in the dead of the night, right smack in the middle of the Ghost Month, because some company wants to shift their phone lines at that unearthly hour.

I am digging into my archives to post an old poem about such activities. Am I the only blogger who works in the middle of the night?


image from internet

Morning



At 5.30
exactly
the alarm tore through
the darkened room
slit across my consciousness
           like a razor blade.

half eyes
peered at the dawn
outside it was pouring
the rain straining to smash
12-gauge water pellets
           through the panes.

i fought
the comfort of warm sheets
stumbled to the bathroom
white light numbing the eyes
the running water from the tap
           cold as arctic ice.

the rain
ricochetting
through the louvres
splattered on cold tiles
as i coughed a breath
           stale as a sewer

then dressed
noisily in the darkness
as a flash of lightning
illuminated the dark room
& the curves of my woman's buttocks,
           taut in the dim light.

i fumbled
for the house keys
struggled
with the door
cursed in my best English
           and walked into the rain.

into the morning.


31-08-2001
revised 09/09/06
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