pillows hovering up high, out of reach,
trying to go to sleep
but i can’t seem to get comfortable,
i would go to bed naked,
but i’m too afraid the sheep will
laugh at my pale nakedness
sight seems to elude me at moments
that require perspective,
i don’t know what to say; i’m at a bit of a loss,
you’ve caught me off guard,
and i’d prefer if you’d come back later,
maybe when i, or you, have called first,
so we’re both ready for a sojourn
into each other’s company,
i smell lemon grass,
is that a new perfume?
there’s a happy accident happening every four seconds,
or so,
which also means there’s some horrible, atrocious thing
happening, as well,
because nature loves symmetry,
unless you’re looking at a crooked rock sitting at the edge
of a field,
about to fall off, because in that case,
symmetry is dead
Fred Aiken Writing 