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Places Everyone
Sweet steam,
The kind a baker makes
And that smell tells a story
We recite each morning
The engine turns over
While the radio gives away prizes,
Trebled noises soar while the coffee speaks
With the grounds to grind us under
Kids stand at the ready
Pencils not yet sharpened
Folded away for later
And their backpacks get heavy with time
Spines get bent that way
But pretty soon
We all straighten up
Or at least half of us anyway
The others stay strong,
Brave faces everyone
Like devils beating drums
Running from the sun
Toothpaste and orange juice
Ring metallic
While taste buds fall silent,
Define phallic
We raise the dead each morning
And send them back at night,
Necromancy in the age of google
This is the future now
But still the usual
