Morning Haze
Seeing the beauty in the world, and not seeing it at all
The air is so thick I can hear it
Vague crackle spatters
Somehow louder than the chirping of birds
I cannot see
*
White white white
All around me
An illusion of cataracts returned
Just for the morning
*
O the asphalt parking lot
Golf ball gobs of bird shit
Spattered every 18 inches
Perpendicular from building to tree
*
What the hell did it eat?
*
Toting my trash bags
I approach the dumpster
Taking shallow breaths
Smelling it at 20 feet
*
The door yawns open
Full inside
Despite precautions
The stink fills my chest, burns my tongue
*
A writing instructor might tell me
To rework this, massage it
Pump it up to be more
But then I'd hate it. And the instructor. Or not.
About the Creator
Gene Lass
Gene Lass is a professional writer and editor, writing and editing numerous books of non-fiction, poetry, and fiction. Several have been Top 100 Amazon Best Sellers. His short story, “Fence Sitter” was nominated for Best of the Net 2020.
Comments (2)
I love how the piece juxtaposes the ethereal softness of the fog with the harsh realities of the morning routine. It’s grounded, funny, and quietly profound all at once.
Excellent. I can smell the dumpster with you and I've taken similar precautions, alas, like you, in vain! I really like "Vague crackle spatters." The flow of this poem is lovely. I like the disruptive nature of the closing, pulling the reader from the scene, but giving back to the reader as well. Nicely done!