morning

four a.m.

i have been alone with my thoughts and Jack Kerouac
for sometime now

i want to sleep, i really should rest
i will regret this in the morning
fuck, it is the morning

the snow is deep
the thoughts are deeper
consuming the rest of my mind
with interest. with concern. with pretty words.

locks and alarms
man walking in the middle of nowhere
truck in the ditch
not a single cop
numerous snow plows

these thoughts come in no particular order
backtracking to fake elegance is a hell of a thing
one can feel as if cheating his original thoughts
his original self
but i am who i am right now
and this isn't really an end

but thanks to these cups of coffee with unseen bottoms
i cannot sleep
but chemical imbalance cannot be blamed for it all
the thoughts plague my mind without end
the way the coffee poured early without end
so i walk
walk in the cold to my truck

at this hour the pale brilliance of the moon contrasts the navy blue sky along with the cantaloupe coloured clouds
i drive and warm
driving alone on the deserted streets
like the last salmon swimming up stream
after driving and warming for some time
the snowy coating on LouEllen is reduced to droplets
but her heart remains intact if not somewhat thawed

i must truly thank those before me
for helping to appreciate these few simple things
the camels and Arizona for instance
i drive slowly
i am not in a hurry to arrive anywhere
the boundaries are hard to recognize beneath the depths of snow
but i can see where i should not be
so i know where i should
pain isn't pleasure. pleasure isn't pain.

there is no music
silence like this should not be pissed away
i still think to myself
and then think to myself why i don't just talk to myself
words must be constructed carefully before bound to permanence
when you don't take time to sleep
the days run together in odd ways
yesterday seems like today
last week seems like last month
but right now. it is always right now.