Routine

I bulldozed rows
of cotton dunes,
squeezed others into
fault-line footprints.
My dreams wallowed ruts
on journeys
longitude to longitude,
and back again, and
vaporized like ghosts
every time
the dam threatened to break.
Digitized voices broke the silence.
I showered,
shaved, then
made the bed.

(all rights reserved Pat Paulk 2006)