when I'm still driving home in a dream that won't stick
and the airwaves get cued with all manner of squawk and what ensues is
Rude
Awakening, I fake the scene of quiet slumber
outside my window, the rumble of thunder asunder
Wonder what is up with that?
Scat you ungodly demons, you crows, clashing, cawing, clawing for dominance
It's my sense that ornithological, pathological, diabolical prominence in the wee hours
Will not relent nor retreat and my sleep once sweet
Now ends at 6:10
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