Sunrise Falling Poem by L. K. Thayer

I stick out my thumb to hitch a helicopter
Or anything to get me high,
Looking for a pick-me-up, a forklift.

Strangers open their trench coats to let me in,
Buttons sewn on with meat hooks.

I can see my breath.
The canopy of dire straights has lifted a bit.
With each mile I fabricate, I see signs
Of selfish compost.
Gates of forlorn sweaters
Counting sheep.

The billboards scream swashbuckling ink,
Buy me! Buy me! Try me!
Tires turn counter clockwise.

Time is punished, waiting for cocktail millennium,
And sunrise falling.

Daylight sinks into submarine, as knees bleed.
No band-aids for suicide mutilation.

Tearing at the gauzy bandage of white picket fences,
My armor is evaporating.
As I search for helium, suffocating
From a life of beige.