I am nearly 13 hours asleep
in this nearly empty place
a sofa and a coffee table adrift.
I feel like the poem come alive,
The Owl and The Pussy-cat
out to sea
in a pea-green boat.
The thoughts are circling like Big Sky clouds or scavenging birds, I don’t know which or both; this is the move without end, the move unexpected. I drive another round-trip, dead-head run.
I return home from home, I don’t know which or both. Last night another meal of take out. I am barely hungry.
I opt instead, tear open a King’s Fortune, break out that slim, bilingue, little slip of paper, madly almost sure it holds the answer. Some deep Tao Te Ching in a short order kitchen.
I am not disappointed.
I am one of the luckiest, wealthiest, happiest women in the world:
“You will be having a lot of a fun.”