Aroused by the typewriter’s bell
I’m salivating like Pavlov’s dog
Imagining caffeinated mornings
Walking the Sunset within the fog
Though those were forgotten emotions
I’m not able to repeat that form
So I do my best to feel the original
Sometimes I’m hard to notice before the storm
The gentle fog of last night’s revelry
Walking the streets before the sun
Overcorrecting the crooked events
Getting myself right before the day’s begun
Dreamscapes fading in these early hours
Scars to tell tales of an alternate narrative
Truth impedes the recital of our union
Clinging to our bodies not always so imperative
Setting the scene amidst several libations
Resulting in sloppy notes from the underground
These aren’t mundane epitaphs from stone
Rather just trinkets for creation to remain unbound
These are dreary days
With swamp fog descending upon us
I’m not one to shift blame
Knowing the weight of a day’s jaundice
Another coffee is not going to save us
Nor cause the inevitable doom
So let us pour a cup of darkness
In defiance of such obvious gloom
Counting all my cufflinks
You tied my perfect tie
Another night by the bay
Lost within the foggy sky
Seeming to float as you walk
Affection rose by a mere kiss
Evening air cool upon your soul
Never knew we could be like bliss
Your dress flailing behind
Setting down an opaque trail
Everything a dream could be
Forever wrapped by the sail
Captain Q 