Visiting the City's Morning

It approaches pleasure to awake
Among the first honks of morning
When bundles of silence still buffer
Between the moans of migratory vehicles.
I myself am something got out
Of an automobile last night.

Through the flaming circus
That raged its midway along
The gorges below I prowled,
Consuming the sex of night by the gallon
Until the last drop of it exploded
This morning just out of neon's reach.

A lost bird rolls out of the sun
Of several windows across the street
And back into the forests of my mind.
Soon the stepchildren of gadgetry,
All roared out, will begin to refile
Themselves into the archives of another week.