The world is such a bubble
I can’t believe I’ve stood atop it in hobnail boots,
and it hasn’t popped all this time.
My eyes fail in one night of exhaustion.
Lord, please let me sleep. I can’t sleep.
For some reason, I can’t sleep.
I’m tired, so, so tired.
My eyes are failing,
and I’ve been crying
excitement and ignorance,
collecting the tears in a cocktail of terror.
It’s molotov, to be sure. Ducks on a pond
and comfort and the smell of wood and Ralph Lauren
Fuzz in the air tonight. Brownish all.
Dirty and dull. And cookies and sparkling cider.
How far have I climbed up Jacapo’s ladder?
Eternity stares through one eye.
Heraclitus. Good bye. Goodbye.
