Arise, wake up.
There’s a lizard in your cup —
no, no — wait. It’s an album cover.
Or something like one. And all at once,
you’re asleep, again.
You know, slowly, where you’re at.
This is downright sad. Downright terrifying.
You don’t even know whose album it is
and you are trying to listen to it
but you don’t know the song, the songs;
shit — you don’t know any of them
or even whose album it is.
You’d ask the lizard but are pretty sure
that he’s deaf, and would not know.
If you get up, will it break the spell?
If you go back to sleep, will it break something else?
You rise up. You piss in a fountain,
come back to bed and take the usual measurements
of blood pressure and blood sugar
and stare at them as you write them down
and imagine the lizard, try to see him
in a shadow, but he’s gone.
No magic today, you guess.
And you still can’t remember the song,
the songs, the album, or even the artist.
You let it go — for now. Think about
that lizard, instead;
keep him in your heart
for a while until you finally
fade back away to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T
