Exiting the void without

Sinking noiselessly into my third skin

The daylight behind, a trailing blur

What happens in the night makes less sense



First suit donned when in groggy waking light

Momentary protests at the dawn

Fumbles with our old mechanics 

Still creaking from the evening’s slumber 



Second when, in flash-bang charge

The workman’s curse sets cast its truths

En route to jobs and errands laden

so heavily without grit or grin

Sea legs now acquired 

Us, with our souls bound by order

So eager for the day to end

Hours lost and hours spent 



And when the clocks call for quittin’ 

Sudden surge of tired smiles

Play light the facts that choke our freedoms

Setting out now to town to celebrate them with friends



None for me though, I’m a goner

What happens in the night makes less sense

A step towards home is both backwards and on

Leaned back to indulge a simpler sigh


I’m always leaning back on something

Crutches groan and boulders shudder

Captured moments deep in pockets 

Whatever helps the day roll by