Foggy Morning City

Where has the magic gone
From last night rain-wet streets?
Oh, you F.A.S.C.I.N.A.T.I.O.N. lights!
Fraudulent at first light exposure.

The red-eyed sun creaks up
to Wearily shirk from 8 to 5.
All those soft-spun cocoons unravel.
Hive-bred hard-hacked beetles, they fly

Snarling, into the days sour honey.
They swarm past office doorways
In a morning of metamorphoses, never notice
The early-morning miracle
of the milk-bottles.