A Modern Commute

a moment, please.

[the alarm clock rings]

the dream ends, flitting away
like island girls on the edge of
some obscenely large volcano on some
distant world now long forgotten by us
humans.

a modern commute starts with the
thought process.
process thought.
proceed throughout.

i look out the window
and commute to the mind
of another so many miles
away and, in a way, we're
still communicating (again,
the modern commute, if you
will) Will you remember?
Will you forget? Will
you even ever wonder?

unspoken thoughts that
don't ever get said
eventually do escape
(or so i've been told
by one or two other
souls on the road,
so alone) and they
whisp up toward the
heavens (all the layers
of it) toward the source
as prayers. it's been said
our thoughts are actions
as well in a way, and i
guess i agree with it,
one way or another,
the thoughts are
smothered and
somehow otherwise
covered with a tarp
in the beer garden alley -
two feet
too short
(double, triple, double
mean-
ings)

today was a good day,
as they say in the hood
during the modern midnite
commute to other towns in the
virtual world called the intraweb.

a modern commute requires broadband.

i'm boring you, though.

i'll stop.

now.

really!

ok...