Morning Rush

Pressed for time, shoes on but not tied. Thermos is hot, coffee just poured in, some on the skin, wince through the pain. Hotter than realized outside, expect to sweat through the undershirt. Race to the corner and miss the bus, hail a cab, skip a couple happy hours. Necktie stuffed into a pocket somewhere, newspaper forgotten, banana on counter, who needs solid food. Traffic jam, cars backed up all down the highway, hope it's something good. An accident, a bad one, two ambulances and three police cars, be careful what you wish for. Smoke, a body being carted away. No time for that now, presentation in less than an hour. Get there, pay the man, run inside, check email, tie shoes, freshen coffee. Old bagels brought by somebody, every cream cheese has to have something in it nowadays. Conference room has water bottles and coffee and juice and pastries and fruit. Strange how we treat others better than ourselves. Too much coffee on an empty stomach, pop a couple strawberries and rearrange to fill the gaps. Soon people will be in here listening. Sit and breathe and go over notes. Traffic. Every accident starts with people doing what they always do. At some point the laces became untied.