oblivious (okay computer)

awaken, saliva from the most lovable galoot    
on my face, left hand reaches towards table.  
Roll one of the three cigarettes that  
I will actually enjoy today, light, inhale.  
The first four minutes of every morning  
are nearly perfect, the cursor hasn't yet hit screen.  
   
Scratch balls, relieve bladder, oblivious    
that the flush and disappearing is the key  
to any civilization. Open backdoor, allow galoot  
to greet sun, he lifts leg, oblivious that he is uncivilized.  
Raise arms, stretch wide, release deep guttural sound.    
The cursor agrees to meet screen for another round.  
   
Coffee brewed, poured in oversized cup with snowman  
image on it. Sit in same seat on back porch. Lift lid  
of laptop, unaware that the Akashic chronicles have been  
writing graffiti on the walls of the Dunkin Donuts down  
the street. Arrow finds iTunes, selects a staple go-to,  
"To Terrapin '77" disc 3. The cursor downloads the updated  
version of Zen, reinforces its outline, by being the screen.