Quincy Mornings

I have sat in my car, alone down the freeway
and not ever wanted to take the final exit,
turning up the volume, far beyond realism,
never feeling as though it were ever enough.
I notice the sun come up over the fields
and laugh at how its enormous heat means nothing;
all the corn still frozen, the fog freezing to the
windshield, my fear for black ice as real as death.
I take the final exit, listen to the song once more
and arrive in the parking lot exactly as expected.
Such is the way a seemingly innocuous day begins.
I step out onto the sheen of black pavement
and shuffle my weight across the lot, careful
to preserve my perfectly prepared coffee which
by then, is nearly empty. A careless slip on the
slanted lot and I just might fall forever.