10/12/2024
Museum of 3:00 am
This is when they visit you
all the gathered pieces
of everything
They come rushing in
in groups, in squads,
in platoons, in cliques
And there is the occasional
straggler, too, that one
wearing an interesting cap
who has forgotten his shoes
They have a lot they want
to discuss with you, about
the future of the oceans,
the way things turn sideways
before they fall, how you
are still afraid of the high dive
(and what that says about you).
Why you are alone.
You ask them to back off
please, to give you some space
but then they come back with
"space is the place" quoting
Sun Ra, and "Space the final
Frontier," quoting Star Trek
Please please already, you say,
I need rest. But they are
adamant critters, not just drop bys
they're carrying picnic baskets
and to do lists that scroll down
like Rapunzel's hair.
Order those opera tickets,
they command, Eat more fruit!
And you poor soul, listen up
until finally sleep pops into
the party and grabs you
by the pajama lapel.
Come this way, it whispers,
I know a secret exit ramp
from the museum. It's a slide
and you let yourself go,
slowly down, then faster,
into your pillow, into some
little snip of dream,
into tomorrow
