It's like deja vu, only older, somehow.
I started out thinking I was supposed to be doing something,
Or maybe meet someone,
But the time is out of joint. Or I forgot
How every day becomes something else,
Yet there's a hum of sameness where the meanings start.
Maybe minutes don't add up to hours like they used to.
I look at everyone, and how beautiful they've become!
Nothing begins to make sense, but then
How can nothing begin? A dog's yawn
Makes more sense than much of this world.
I lose track of time--think it's Wednesday when it's not.
Some days repeat with no explanation.
My beard turns grey, but wisdom cometh not.
Every other day or so, some thought of mine turns false.
(The mine of thought is rather dimly lit, at best.)
I learn to doubt my mind
And travel through the dark.
Curiouser and curiouser!
