I WANT TO GROAN
Here's the likeliest moment of
this day, the smattering of applause
when the sun comes up, the moon
goes down, all that heavenly stuff.
It's a quandary, me not knowing
what it is I seek : there are people
sitting around, as ever, in some
dawn cafe, chomping on eggs and
butter, talking away. The cars out
the door are as sleek as new rain;
droplets of time and moment,
accumulated matter, everything
waiting for something. They way
it's put now, by science, is that none
of this solid really exists; it's all
things in motion in time with spaces
between. Hologramic matter, on the
way to the same oblivion as me.
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