He had been in a deep dream, searching for a lost puppy
When the clanging alarm startled him to reality
The clear images fading like a burning photograph
Then, a desperate sense of unrecoverable loss
Lying on a couch, the beacon clock, clicking his heartbeat
With no desire in facing the awaiting mundane day
His aching back, reminds him of a night of stooped typing
And his dry mouth, of the many vodka inspirations
Opening his eyes, the room is semi aglow with dawn
Turning, he meets the scrutinizing eyes of porcelain frogs
Sliding roughly to a difficult sitting arrangement
Reaching for a bottle of room temperature water
His tongue dampened, he leans back to remember the reason
Why did he need to be shaken from his unconscious state?
Work, yes, that essential means to maintain his existence
Would he be teaching high school mathematics, English, or science?
Rising to his feet and in route the coffee maker
Now noticing the radio playing in the milieu
Earthquake, fire, shootings, political scandal, and weather
The essentials for the complex human news equation
Leaning over a large bed, he kisses his sleeping wife
Patting the dog’s head, continuing to the master’s bath
Later, while adjusting his suspenders, his wife reminds
Lunch is in the refrigerator, don’t forget the trash
On the short commute, through a cold northwest drizzling rain
He evaluates his current role as middle aged
Spending each day killing time, while crawling toward the finish
In his castle of souvenirs and faded memories
Mowing an endless lawn and shoveling tons of compost
The whisper of worry in his ears, about debt and health
Watching his wife grow old and pets slowly age until death
He laughs, at what seems like, the pure senselessness of it all
During his day, he continues to ponder while teaching
Looking into the young faces of his eager students
They are filled with the exciting beginning of new lives
Far from comprehending the classic middle aged crisis
In the evening, within the walls of his cozy cave
The television news professing the Armageddon
His loving wife sleeping off dinner in her recliner
He freshens his drink and is silently thankful for her
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008