Upon Waking Early

Forgive me,
for I am freshly awakened from nightmares.
Thoughts, metastasized, audible.
Emotionally intoxicating echoes and greyscale hallucinations.
Caligula’s garden.
People-shaped grapes on red ribbon vines.
Cars passing by, each containing scowling, staring faces,
half-shaded, half-lighted;
half-faced passengers and drivers.
And they all nod at me while they stare,
as if to remind me that you’re still talking.
Forgive me.
I didn’t hear the question.

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