Pit-Stops

Dishevelled thoughts whisk at high-speed winds,
tossing around sand like children in a playground
Dust swirls
Creamed concentric circles in a morning coffee cup
the scent of burnt toast wafts and wanders

Breakfast is served
in a jumbled, mishmash fashion:
scrambled eggs piled on French toast
oozing with golden maple syrup
sitting on top of strips of fatty pink bacon
stretched and posed across blueberry pancakes,
the foundation of a morning mess

Lists pile up like cars on Highway 1
the view of a magnificent baby blue ocean
the only reprieve from exhaust fumes

smoke that twirls upward and around
a teenage girl’s baton stick shimmering
with silver strands that sparkle in the sun’s rays

life is like a three car pile-up,
breakfast at a truck pit-stop diner
meals that merge
customers who dream of good bottomless coffee
Woody Allen scenes and sarcasm
stand out briskly against Californian palms

Flags of the distracted,
Green swaying surrender
to a daily grind that compresses all meaning
into the here and now.

Exhausts choke and cough on granules of dirt
as people fan themselves with magazines
on a hot Hollywood day in my mind.