On your common commute
empty your mind like a jar
of marbles dumped on asphalt.
When you come to the turn
where all highrises are hidden,
where there is a landscape of sky.
Take in the unique painting of the troposphere.
Consider the imperfect formation of clouds,
a glass made in Morano,
a combination of color and texture
never to be replicated again.
See if you can sip from this vessel.
Solve your problems in the tea
leaf pattern that materializes.
And if a comet of a poem
passes by the windshield,
grab it by the tail. Wrestle with it
on the mat of your mind
until you are able to record it
at the next serendipitous stoplight.
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