post-post-modern life

reality is constantly changing; it's negotiated by self and society
and more than that

i dream that i am standing in front of a mirror
night after night
sometimes i just stare
watch my self unfold
bearded me, younger me
smarter me, there i am, the me that's watching me
once i shook my head back and forth (as if to say no
as if to reject the whole notion of dreaming of a mirror)
i stood in the reflecting water-surface
laughing, cackling like some dream-witch, but me
very much me, and i also watched
the me that shook his head, that tried to pull away
i laughed at myself, to myself, wondered
at the ridiculousness of my life
the seriousness with which i frowned
and shook my head some more

reality is that a storm came through friday
and i ran until my legs wouldn't work anymore
i ran and ran
i almost thought i was struck by lightning
my heightened emotional state the final click in the computer
that is the universe, the final registration
before death, and then i was home
standing in the doorway
wishing i were still running, still with purpose

reality is a storm that came through tonight
i sat in front of the television with alexander on my lap
i tried to pretend the world was far away
the wind that howled through the sky outside
could not in fact be the wind that howled outside of me
inside of me
i hid in front of the television and waited for tornado warnings
until the only thing left to watch was the shocked news correspondents
whispering and twittering like insects aroudn a lamp post
in may

reality is me sitting in front of this computer
wishing i could skip through all this grime and shit
to be standing next to you

reality is the water on my window screens
the currents between here and there