It was a morning as boring as any other:
You went out for cigarettes and never returned.
Hoards of black swans impeded your path,
someone on a soapbox was shrieking slogans.
The sky turned red and began to bleed.
Reporters pressed you hard for the truth,
munchkins clogged the yellow brick road.
Each direction you took was sideways.
Snow began to fall on your toes;
dead friends stopped to converse.
Your compass only pointed to hell.
Any movement at all frightened you.
You called out to god, but she was vacationing.
Anything was more difficult than everything.
You became invisible to all taxis:
It’s so easy to get confused in a nightmare.
The chaos finally impelled you to surrender.
You quit smoking and never went home.
Beware the urge for unnecessary errands;
stick to your seat and ponder possible perils.