Creative

wake early to be late

31 August 2020

suppose I set my alarm so I wake graceful, without a start,
open my eyes to a squared sky, where the world is only birds and clouds

suppose birds are not birds but feathered clouds
drifting in and out of not clouds but faded cloth

suppose birds are words but words are not birds ––
words static like anxiety, incapable of flight or fight or fright

suppose I get out of bed on the surprising side, fettered still
to a Freudian fulfilment dream –– I dreamed of getting away with being late,

suppose traffic is not rigged against me but against Reason,
you’re consumed like a wad of gum caught in the teeth of town,

suppose public transport compels me to silence, stench of familiarity drowns
painfully gentle excuse me’s, disorienting brakes, shrinking stoma of exit doors,

suppose I, too, press for change? –– get down the tram and walk, my feet in the clouds,
bash the buttons at the traffic lights to exert I am here but –– am I sure?

suppose the green man winks greener than I’d remembered ––
am I changing the lights or are the lights changing me?


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