back to the days of automatic

back to the days of automatic writing
whatever is popping into the head
smoke fills the kitchen
it's still winter and he can't open the door
sixty-four ounces of coffee
cannot be a healthy diet
good thing he isn't running for office
too many nervous habits
and sometimes leaves his
sweatshirt on he is always
got a lid covering what some might
dread black book and a smoky kitchen
producing pages of free thought
nothing is free they will say
it's a leap year and what do they all know anyway time for change
not a pocket full of coin
the kind that can take time to occur
not the type spent in second
that broke not that kind of change
back to the days but they're tearing down
the spot making room for something new
change is hard for many to attain
yet so easy to find as he walks
around remembering all the spot
she forgot the late night snow walk
downtown everyone is looking
then he rolls up escorted by two men
change for those behind
and words are only thoughts expressed
back to the days pep talk to push
himself into the corner
thoughts automatic like his foot falling asleep if he crosses
his legs automatic like a red light
at every corner when he is in the car
and has to pee...