A Drive at First Light

In the quiet clarity of dawn, I could have sworn the sky was purple.

I sat up straight, with nothing but a few warm sips warding off a profound internal hurdle.

The antique engine’s wheeze blended with the beat of my rattling flask.

A kind of anti-music, that only the car radio could mask.

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While rotating the knob, I scanned the recesses of my ambition.

Finding little, I traced the outlines of an unclear mission.

Whether money, duty, or fame,

Reaching my destination would clarify my aim.

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Eventually, first light began to emerge.

And glancing at the coffee flask, I prayed for my adrenaline to surge.

The light sketched gentle patterns on bonnet and bull bar,

My ears filling with smooth jazz, rock blues, and shuffling guitar.

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The radio provided soundtrack to a procession -

Passing buildings, representing each common and niche obsession.

Breakfast cafés, boutique tailors, the bookshop of a pirate occultist.

Each storefront slightly obscured by a dancing monolith of receding mist.

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Sooner than expected, my surroundings become residential.

A labyrinth of side streets, offering possible journeys, cryptic and tangential.

I allowed intuition to guide my hands and feet,

Performing turns in accordance to some implicit beat.

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At the end of a curious cul-de-sac was a house, haggard and hidden.

I paused, without a map, strangely confident in my right to enter, unbidden.

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Letting myself into the living room, still strangely nonplussed,

I felt faintly sorry for disturbing the dust.

Under sunken roof lay a dark rug, greenish sofa, and brightness from an old lamp.

The room, a breached cocoon of potpourri and rising damp.

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In my peripheral vision, I identified a wide-eyed resident -

Perfectly stationary, and for its species, typically hesitant.

I extended a hand to my furry greeter, the lamplight revealing underside patterns -

The permanent warpaint of a domestic cheetah.

I carefully stooped in the creature’s direction.

Hankering down, I was showered with feline affection.

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Now visible, were the eyes of additional occupants.

White, black, and British grey.

Staring, as if entranced by a nearby blue jay.

Out of the woodwork, the menagerie began to emerge.

A lurking council, debating whether it was safe to converge.

Soon, on the floor, gathered an ocean of cats,

Surely kittens misbegotten.

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And just like that, my mission, whatever it had been, was forever forgotten.

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