I find myself not up before the city
Is awake, but before it is open
A crow built like a black van
Pleads his case to no one, so large
He chooses his branches carefully
Across the street from the park, above the blue tarps
And the hovering umbrellas that cover
The more wet and less affluent Tokyo

Doors cause small confusions
But open to hot coffee and songs from my youth
Corporate America is a horror that brings comfort
To me some days, those touches and tastes
That bring grounding to a distant morning

I donít sit in earth tone coffee shops much anymore
But here and now Iím the only one here
In this cookie cutter shrine to St. Seattle
I contribute to the G manís kids college fund
And plot the remaining hours of this day
That began yesterday and will end tomorrow,
That will cross the ocean and time,
That will be comfort and constraint,
That will be.