The sun shone brightly
through the window,
waking him early.
He recalled having a dream
about blue bayous and rivers
rife with red salmon deaths,
metamorphosing to nightmares
filled with white-tipped, massive waves,
and heavy-laden, blackish clouds.
His wife, as she had done most days,
made him a large breakfast fit for a king.
It was three eggs, blood sausage and
crispy hash browns, which he ate heartily.
Afterwards, he showered, then shaved.
He chose his gray flannel suit, stark
white shirt, and a gray tie dotted
with crimson diamond shapes.
He kissed his wife and his two kids,
who were having red jam on white bread,
goodbye, then walked out to the car.
Just before he opens
the driver's side black door
he realizes he does not know
who he is or why he is there.