I don’t know how deep
I am in this idea

the crazy man ***** on the train

I don’t know how deep
this tunnel goes
I don’t know how far back –
he looks past my eyes:
I don’t know how rapt
I am in this maze of strayed greetings;
I am in outer space
I don’t know how deep

the crazy man cracks his crazy back
and spits

I still don’t know –
in this vestibule
where the days go,
how far the days go;
the alphabet starts and ends
I don’t know what darkness tastes like,
feels like:
I don’t know why this train bends –
why that tall woman sits staring,
why he paces,
yelling at dark glass

the crazy man is still crazy
a few rows ahead


but
I am easily asleep;

lost in pink
sunset clouds