Morning

A poem on the Morning, 

104.1 FM red Dawn, 

the dew and the cold car, 

Breakfast and radio,

the bussling city weaves and rolls around 

the morning fog 

knowing the times

and cashing in their dollars for product,

drafts and reports and

Papers and critical essays articles and novels

in unison 

With the businesses and the steam of the hot 

locomotives running west, some mad hobo painting the broken 

enterprise of Noon on the trains.