Dawn

I drift
on and off the earth
as you drive me.
The time machine
that pushes me
has lost a cylinder.
When my eyes drift open
the orange sky highlights your cheek.
I may
sense the favor
you are doing me
as always, but just
for a moment. I've
never been a grateful man.
I manage a thought
that it may be a
final trip, a long one,
a short one. I want words
but they won't count.