pre-dawn teenage horror-show (or) storm in a tea-cup

i'm waiting for the sun
the sun to show its face

up early too early
a glitch in health had me down too early

i've seen the sky change from indigo fingertips
night losing its grip on the sky
and as i sit watching
almost suddenly
the sky is blue and as the sun yawns the clouds are fire

you don't want to look away for a moment now
as the sun seems inches from the horizon
and you want to be the first one
in your little part of the world to recieve the sun's
fickle favor

an aeroplane ascends from the west
tearing through the pre-dawn sky
it's contrail looking at the dawn and me simultaneously
is set burning like hammered gold
tearing a line
as if the sky were salt spilled on the truck stop table
that god sits at for breakfast in the morning
and he is absent mindedly tracing the the little finger
of his left hand through it making listless little
designs

mornings like this i am a storm in a tea-cup
and even despite the increasing glow
half of me doubts
that the sun will have the cheek
to go poking its mug around these parts

but things that are not so bad seem worse
in these two hours when the glow lies
more towards the monochromatic
but is enough to keep off fitful sleep
and it's worse when you run out of coffee
and you're stuck with old folgers freeze-dry
that makes your stomach growl in protest
as if it would bite you if it could

though as i write
the sun forces the horizon to crack a tired little smile
like one does when a lover recalls you from sleep
with gentle teeth
biting at the skin of your neck

and i remember that the dishes need to be done
and i could stand to do a load of laundry

and i'll have to pick up milk today
and i'll have to stop by the bank

and i have people to call
and maybe i'll see a movie tonight

and the apperature of my focus shifts
as the sun stops down my pupils
and color adds depth do the world

the coffee is still bad
but the day comes into focus