Dark mode for writing.
Words appear as light-points
on a blue-black screen,
then it’s off to work.

Cars in dense
endless fog, in altogether
too much light as if
this commute were 
a single word none of us
could escape or even
translate.

It will burn off
by late morning
but by then
I will have to be
wordless
but for jargon and 
memo and work safe
chatter.

Now and then
I ask myself what I think
that morning word might be;
it may be one to chase
once I’m home,
back in dark mode,
seeking small lights
to be clawed back
from fog.