Untitled #10

There are mornings when I wake up and the curtain is drawn in such a way that I can just see a small square of sky. The buildings huddled like bumbling titans around my apartment are eliminated from view, and for all I know they could have been eliminated, fantastically, in the night. All I have to do to go with this notion is believe it; feel it drum through me, the thrill of being the last one alive after the apocalypse. On these mornings when I’ve got this view of the bare sky just right I am careful to move very little. I lie as still as I can and I focus, focus, focus on that patch and let the remnants of the dream state guide me to some possible answers for where I ‘am’. The trams become sighing vessels on a vast sea, moaning through the ocean like great whales in search of food or company. Yes, I am in the middle of the sea. My apartment is lost at sea and the sea is licking up its concrete walls like an ancient beast.