May
5
2009
Breakfast in Amnesia
Breakfast seemed
Not quite a meal but more a waking dream
With bits of food that drifted through my teeth
Slowly passing
From plate to me
While my mind did so proceed
That all I thought
Was mere imaginings
My mind a fictive horse with wings
To ply the airy, surreal heights of what’s not yet
and what can’t be
In search of what amuses me
I often find myself thus lost
Before I find the muse accosting me
Sometimes with a wink
other times
With a playful pinch on the cheek
