"epiphany, a.m., monday"

the precise clarity
and melodious orange
of a jazz sunrise
after spring storms
is the sweet analgesia
needed to compete
with the ugly sobriety
attributed to consciousness
and the responsibilities
that come with being
a productive member
of society.

that is why i prefer
the rain;
it, juxtaposed
with a fifth of rum,
do more for my soul
than trees dancing
on the horizon
or matching socks.