shaking hands

i walked into the traffic blind so that i could get to work on time for once.
with coffee rings around my eyes, I stumbled in at sixty seconds past nine.

and they said,
"stephen, don't make any plans for the evening".
they said, "stephen, don't make any plans for the evening.."

staring at my shaking hands, i made a further series of insane demands of myself.
now i must find a route from work that avoids any mirrors or reflective surfaces.

in a bit that was typically cryptic, slickly inefficient, and glistening with eccentricity,
i left my glasses at home that day, combed my hair, and binned all my sexy underwear,
for if i was to dress more sensible, i just might start to comprehend the incomprehensible.