Shall I make markings about the past;
dwell in a haze of memories;
piece together a fading dream,
to say NOW I can live today
as more real than yesterday?

Doesn’t it all feel more real
if I remain right here;
see what IS, right here
in front of THIS me?

The other is not what is,
and only made to seem real
with the programs
and functions of mind’s eye.

Programs. Am I a walking
and breathing program?
Oh Mother! When
do I get to be a real, live girl?