Waiting for Cal-Poly

What idiot put a parade

in the middle of my hangover?

I already have enough rockets

and red glare in my head.

You want civility and breakfast.

I need a coffee fix

to focus my senses.

Wish I could smell those roses.

Another year in paradise that got old.

Football, cholesterol

and a new old God

occupies your mind.

I’m still working the dream

by the light of the cathode ray—

typing spells of

morpheme alchemy.