Morning Mayhem

The cold shower cuts out
before the icy needles can fill a bucket.
Dressing with eyes on the clock.

Legs pumping, slipping, sliding.
Rain-washed tarmac
shines like the Milky Way.
Accelerating as frantically
as a gold medal favourite in fourth.
Lungs desperately dragging oxygen
from diesel stained fog.
At the lights,
the bus is as still
as the corpse in the stormwater drain.
Mercifully the doors fold open.

Aeons into the journey,
the work cancellation message arrives
as silently as a ninja.

One thought on “Morning Mayhem

  1. There are some really good images here and the frustration/disappointment is evoked without using either of those words. I liked the message arriving as silently as a ninja; the bus as still as the corpse in the storm water drain; and the icy shower.

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