Oh how lucky i am

verily as i sit here an exercise in automatic writing in the vain of all those dada artists before me i sit and compose and i wonder oh how lucky i am that amongst the marvel of the present amidst the bone and sinew of my hand i possess still the ability to type and to see the beauty in the real and in the unreal like those many in my past oh how lucky i am and i wonder just how many before me have loved in that same way that only i have loved loved the feeling of fingers and keyboards and of cookies in my mouth and of music in my ears oh how lucky i am to be in love with a woman a woman as real as me and you and although she is not here with me in this moment she exists as i imagine her like the fleeting image of a siren in the sea spray and i write oh how lucky i am and i gaze past my bare legs onto the floor the floor of my room and i wonder oh how lucky i am oh how lucky i am in love with the image of a coke can like so many andy warhols before me and i stare into his sunglasses on the poster next to my bed that i got at the art institute of chicago and i wonder oh how lucky i am

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Written by

whpayne

20 / M / Chicago

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