zota-baba

i crave something roasted
as my attention is attached to nothing more
than a glowing rectangle
in silent dawn

it is an imagined scenery of mind
that poses no risk of getting lost
in what happened before
the preceding sunrise

now and then,
the cortex forgets
that the terrestrial sphere
is spinning mindlessly

no more than one diurnal course ago,
the glowing rectangle gazed back
at four corneas instead of two
and everybody felt less lonely

i, too,
overlooked the fact 
that there is much more
on the other side of the window
that is seldom opened