limited 

transportation is the only real rush

the rest is waiting in line to get cast

boiling water while a baby sleeps

the hustle in fact is a drag

but everyone knows that

working hards an illusion? I must be a

magician?

sitting stills my sleight of hand

there is something so recycled about

the way a yawn simply erupts

in the pick up line

an ice-blended drinks never finished in my car

I’d rather be on fear factor eating a cockroach

than the emotional exertion and avoidance

of babysitting

in the style of the afternoon