i tried to make it less painful,
a concession to the wife,
by switching from the buzz-buzz-buzz
to the delightful sound of the radio;
but even music can be a bad start
especially when it’s in the form
of Hall and Oates or some-such other
overly-happy sounding band
that seems to be playing
everyday at exactly wake-up time,
as if they are watching,
waiting for the exact moment
to spring the trap,
to darken the day
with horrible morning music.

The street light is but a
stone’s throw
away from me. I can see it,
pushing back the darkness pushing
back the darkness pushing back the
terror pushing back the beauty pushing
back the night

I fear I’ll never make it,
for the stone may throw, but
it may also bounce off,
in to the great big horror that is
uncertainty

I could not be let to skip,
nor could I make to be thrown,
There is no one strong enough
to pitch me.

So I look towards the street light
while standing under another one