I shamble to the kitchen out of bed,
Tumble-
down
man needing coffee, slip-shod
in whiskers toilet-brush-face
scrubbing the ceramic rim,
steamed
ah
clumping together like rice
here at the edge of another day

I am myself again
and yet remembering all that
struggle to get here, this morning’s
metaphor, all to do again, I wonder
if I can ever be myself again

while in the gathering day
winking at me from garden oases
bedouin dew dissolves away,
fading lives, forgotten faces.

Well-scrubbed man on a mission, company man,
suited up like a deep sea diver, in slow bounds
of effortless commotion I proceed towards
wrecked hopes as if they held a treasure.

************************************

Life generally is a set of potentialities that can’t be realized. Seen in that way, I can excuse the world’s failures, just as I excuse my own.