The  bouncing red ball
of my dreams

I now see
in my everyday

it's something to follow
and focus on

because
at my age I've learned

variety
was never the spice of life

It's about that time
when the mind  wanders

starts to play
and walks the tight wire

between
liquid and solid

dream
and reality

and paperclips
taped together

a sculpture
on my desk

art and an homage
to desperation

despair
and disappointment

every time
I look up my retirement account

The ambient atmosphere
of machinery

electronics
and light flashing

like a Kodak camera
amazing

what we embrace
and how we find peace

when our nose
is to the grindstone

and we are
under the gun

"It's supposed to be sunny today..."

he says to no one
then shrugs

and walks off
to make copies

like soap bubbles
from a wand

so many broken pieces
of conversation

float off into space
before

they pop

I'm out of the loop
an outsider

so they they say

and that's perfectly ok

last night
I dreamed of Dilbert

not in his cubicle
but onstage in a jazz club

playing
sultry saxophone

with enchanted blue smoke
rising up

around him

These silver-colored nuggets
in a glass bowl

plopped
on the counter

metallic gleaming
under the fluorescent light