60 hours, sleep

These roads are new,
New to me.
The kind of roads you only see
In the real early afternoons,
The kind of roads you only see coming home.

After flat warming’s look warm receptions,
After long nights in square rooms
With a mattress made of concrete,
these are new to me.

It’s the first & last,
Getting out or coming back.
It’s a full pack with a clipper
Home on an arms rest

Reality’s en route
For the longest walk.
And I’ve missed more
mornings than an alcoholic,
But the sun shines brightest
When it’s coming off the rain