unwild
Is there no match for me in all the world?
How many times I have wondered this.
Lying in bed on a Saturday afternoon,
pen and paper in hand,
“golden angle sundowns” painting the wall.
(I borrowed that phrase from a friend.)
It feels elegant in here today, this cube-like room of mine.
The mirror at the foot of the bed, staring back at me.
The dried plants in a slim black vase, arranged so orderly.
Like an evening gown on a mannequin,
it's all on display, waiting for someone
to slip into it, and begin the night's ballet.
Maybe someday.
This room, suffused with light;
a room with stars on the ceiling
and a framed picture of two unicorns,
running free and wild.
And yet here I wait, as unwild as I am,
ready to wear a tie at a moment's notice.
Ready to make room for someone else's things,
someone else's space.
But my thoughts trail off...
puppies and birds and nightly dreams
of strange encounters with people
who always seem to be telling me something.
Maybe all of it is just the same person,
trying to get through to me
like a moth in a forest of giants
sending out pheromones
in all directions.
Maybe someday I will know.
For now, I want to fall asleep;
a purrfect, worriless sleep,
embracing whatever feeling of unity
I can attain to.
I want the whole world to be inside here
with me too, purring like a kitten,
kneading at my consciousness.
~
2015 - 2020