this waking up

having never

gone to sleep

state of forgotten–

 

sometimes

it’s sad

the way

we dream.

 

the way

we postpone,

the way

we act as if

life were only

in the next room.

 

we are

imitable as loss

discarded like an empty shoe

removable as a t-shirt

 

life being

its own consumer

 

this waking up

having never

gone to sleep

mystery to itself–

 

miracles

aren’t always

happy

 

misery

isn’t always

ugly

 

the old man

has his cane

and laughter

takes

many forms.