This morning
as usual
I stumbled
down the stairs
for coffee
like a heat-seeking missile
if heat-seeking missiles
were slow
and wobbly
so not really
like a heat-seeking missile
at all
more like
a caffeine-seeking
zombie
if zombies
sought caffeine
rather than brains
not yet fully conscious
not yet able to form
sensible metaphors or similes
it took until the seventh stair
the squeaky one
the one that should get the grease
but no that’s wheels
to register
that it didn’t matter
the squeak wouldn’t wake you
sleeping across town
in someone else’s bedThis is for day #2 of PAD (Poem a Day) or NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month).
