Louisiana Summer

A summer shed

The familiar feeling
of waking up stiff,
still a little drunk,
still a little angry,
but detached now,
like it was all last night
because it was,
barely,
though just enough
to venture opening your eyes
in your truck,
in your driveway,
with the sun,
already too high,
glaring in your face.
The sounds:
engine sputtering
just about out of gas,
stale air conditioning
blizzard gales
a lone bird singing,
a lone dog barking,
a distant airplane.
everything hurts,
everything scattered,
and with the day
comes coffee,
comes the search
for whatever you keep leaving behind.
And it’s just another Monday morning,
Louisiana summer.