Am I become

Am I become

Nothing more than

A piece of writing.

One of those abstractions

Thoughtfully written

From the perspective of a lake

Lying in wait

Deep and inviting

Cold and calculating.

A repository of daily dreaming

Gently drifting

Beneath an interesting sky

Full of whispers

The gleam of the moon

Tickling my skin

On a clear night

Surface tension, unbroken.

I could be an ocean

Or a lazy Susan

Stuck in a corner

Hauling things up from the deep.

An old miner

Asleep in a cottage

Barely breathing

The black lung

Taking me away.

A dumb waiter

Is a crazy thing to want to be

“I know nothing

Mister Fawlty.”

Why would I even go there?

When the stars are as high

As the corn in Oklahoma.

I could be in Surrey

With a lustful blonde

She would have a fringe

I might wear a check-shirt

Plaid if it was Oklahoma.

All the while

I am adrift

Half asleep

On an open boat

On a mill pond

Off the Malalfi coast.

It is a nice dream

To write down in words

Of only I could

Abstract myself

Far enough away

From the observation

To interpret the meaning

Of discourse.