More than twice
I contemplated deep and wide
in the pool of the greatest swirls
about just takin' the greyest dove out for a ride.
I like to know
that you know.
It will never but always be in the now.
The power of now
riding way deep in the backseat
of that fine classic cherry bomb
flippin' pancakes and makin' bacons hiss with a fine sizzle.
It's just that cafe in that time.
Sky-peering window up high,
linoleum down low,
cutup counter just right.
The greyest dove descends on my shoulder,
says it could be just about time.
Never that shade of grey would depart as a choice,
just as grey as I could choose.
Now the cafe shrinks in my rearview mirror,
it doesn't really matter what I drive.
It's the shade of grey I ride.
Did you not know, grey is the new white.