Some mornings are not the same.
The sun rises from due South
The toothpaste tastes funny in the mouth.
The newspapers know who to blame.
Some roads are just slicker when wet.
The gutters flow full,
Gravity threatening your skull,
You make a correction, then "STET."
The bus driver smiles, his wipers work.
A beautiful girl, and her retarded brother.
Sitting in front of you like toast and butter.
One to lead and one to lurk.
Mystery in the main,
Foggy breath in sunrise flame,
Wet dying dew, your heat and ice.
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