There are people who awoke
this morning on a promontory
in the middle of the ocean
with the waves whipping about
who can barely hear themselves
breathe and bear no echo
of their thoughts, so that “I am”
is as substantial as a passing swell
and only when they move about
do they realize that yes indeed
this steep rock is slippery and
my fear of sliding in is not fantasy.
Nor are the bleachers of bystanders
who watch in astonishment as if
the next move, to get off that rock
should be the most obvious thing
in an otherwise unobvious universe.
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