The Mornings

I have a confession to make
it is not my fault
never was my fault
I've got almost forty years
of evidence to prove it

The mornings are hard

Always have been
young or old(er)
in shape or out
good times or bad
doesn't matter

Don't blank with me
in the morning
Not a threat
nor a warning
as my oldest daughter
would say
Just a fact

Coffee helps
a necessary addiction
discovered when I
was nineteen
when the world
demanded its due
under industry
and an alarm clock

But helps does not fix
or correct
or change
The mornings are hard
always have been
and I suppose
always will be

But there is a grace
one could say, perhaps
In the hour or two
of general grogginess
when my mind is not in gear
and my body is crying its age
and the dogs are licking my face
like something is wrong
I can write
write in a way
that the mind in gear
can't

Crazy it seems
I can't interact with you
because I say
I'm not awake
and this is true
but I can write
and from a distance
I look the arse
a jackassary
for if I can write
why can't I talk
interact
engage

I don't have an answer
I ask that you trust me
when I say
The mornings are hard
please don't blank with me