Voices of the Morning

The cars stream endlessly
like gushing river currents
I feel my misty breath
kiss my cheek, my fingers
numb and stiff, like the air around me
but
I concentrate on the words
fed by the speakers
finger the smooth pink cord
hanging limply from my ears
and try to try to escape this Monday morning
I am
in New York City, blinded by the bright city lights
for three long minutes
I am
tripping over skies sipping waterfalls
I am
where the midnight river rolls
My earphones
give me a warm sanctuary
from the frosty dawn