we awake confused and disoriented
hoping to notice something recognizable;
rested bodies move slowly, bumping
into mental objects thought to have been discarded
as we replace sweat stained clothes with bathrobes;
stumbling, bumbling, and muttering, we
all else except the new day -- a day
to repair what we had done the day before;we cheerfully urinate away the contents of the night,
purging ourselves of what did not work and
begin to replenish with tasty poisons to open our eyes;
we are he or she or both as we adorn ourselves
in combat regalia, making another mental note
not to miss lunch again today as we yesterday;
we think our lives are as good as it gets,
patting ourselves prematurely on the backs
for a job well done, ignoring future consequences;
life never seems to interfere with sleep and
when we sleep we create theatrical productions
in a minimum of 5 acts like an out-of-work writer;
images flash, but not too quickly, before our eyes
and the automatic processing of central intelligence
begins yet we sit in silent observation of all that is
because of the recent stroke we claim to have had.
27April14
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