In My Coffee Cup

I saw my reflection in my coffee cup this morning.

The news droned on in the living room. Lies.

In the city, cars and buses belch thick, hot breath and move with unforgiving speed.

Fingers fumble for keys, push elevator buttons and collect microscopic detritus. Locomotives howl rueful tones as they migrate through the dark shadows... building tops a palimpsest of the predawn.

Clocks tick out imaginary moments... and the sun lights our preposterous race. In a wet corridor of an underpass, a florescent light chatters and dims... to die in a shaft of yellow sunlight. Night brings it's resurrection.

Somewhere a child is born.

Somewhere sand blows down a desolate beach... each grain forever unknown, yet irreplaceable.

Somewhere a wolf pads her way along tan and brown rushes flattened by a high creek, now receded... seeking a muskrat for a meal.

A deep crater on the moon casts a ten mile shadow that hasn't changed in over a million years.

A star burns with fury a billion miles away casting violent energy into the indifferent vacuum called Universe.

My coffee is cold.