Boulevard

I raise my ice pick in the morning of the seventh day
She coerces my tinted glass
It's 6 o'clock AM
The delicate dance of man and winter
All my horses and shiny buttons
Strapped and warm for the journey ahead
Satchel in hand; highway ahead
This will be a day to remember

I unstrap myself; arrived alive
Heavy-burdened breathing
My heart is pounding like Wall Street
I avoid the awkward steps
Down the darkened corridors
Ducking paper mâché and déjà vu
I, yet again, am a stranger in a foreign land
No answer, and my thumbs are out of ink

Where do market streets look the same?
Crowded, littered, and plastered white
All I want is the messenger man
Send for her in the courtyard
I'm on my way
The minstrels comment my attire
She inquires my official title
Nothing never mattered even then

My stagecoach is freezing
The wheels are cracked and bruised
We embraced on the boulevard
Where our car slowed to a stop
My nose is getting cold
It nuzzles in your cheek
It's 9 o'clock PM
What a wonderful day this has been