numbers game

nothing’s coming out
save Players smoke
words that gridlocked early
need that traffic bloke

what to have for breakfast:
oatmeal or cheese on toast?
the light within the fridge
is a laughing white ghost

you can see it in the air
morning chill that nibbles toes
bright sunrise without warmth
inside me coffee glows

the walk to work is peaceful
beneath the arch of autumn sky
will I say hello to my friend,
or will I strangle on goodbye?

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