'Til the Morning Takes Me

Riga petered out, but someone felt compelled to stop and talk to me,

Vilnius went on for a good while, I suddenly noticed it was light outside,

said whoops as Tristan had a pill shoved in his mouth by a topless woman,

and it seems this is about when I began sending the premonitions home,

Budapest was milder but less mild than expected,

but at least I got the day off after and made my daily call from the baths,

Athens was ok, but there's something wrong there, 

it was just a solid block of Pyramid Club and no-one was sure what to do,

Bratislava was compact and precise and actually 

I had no idea it was morning at all and was forced to leave, 

and later rode a bus to the music shop for spares

in the beautiful slate grey of home,

Basel - I had no idea what I said and to whom but two months later I still

have the distinct feeling I was impish.

---

Peggy got her dates mixed up and didn't text me on the runway,

I'm nervous when she does and now I'll be nervous if she doesn't:

the cockpit went white two minutes in the air,

something fried,

hundreds of flights and I've never had to turn and ask,

planes conduct electricity, right,

that split second of is this what an explosion looks like

and oh ok, my seat is still dry,

interesting how my body isn't resigned to pissing in 

the face of it yet the mind is ah well, too many loose ends,

not my problem anymore.

Still I took a Xanax, squeezed the headrest against my ears

and like Vilnius and Bratislava, 

in the morning,

I was not gone.