Precarious Life

Each day is more valuable, at least 

it seems that way.

Each smile each kind gesture is seen

with more clarity…

appreciated so much…

sight sounds smells are there without distraction…

wisdom blazes in ordinary lives…

if only they could see what I see

before the curtain falls…

it’s such a miracle to be in the middle of it all.

The tragedy of familiarity.

The one that comes to the party that we’re 

not sure of…

don’t know what to expect…

if they’ll make a scene

make a scene

make a scene

make a scene…

the play’s the thing in which the truth is revealed…

repetition  is how we learn…

that monkey wrench in the works

is maybe the only thing the guests will remember…

he knew he was there…

as I do sitting on the sidewalk…

one thing about Mexicans:

if they fall, they don’t have far to go.

Sitting on the sidewalk…

standing on the edge of a cliff…

waiting for a little push…

trying to write my way out

of a paper bag…

on the edge of a cliff..

on a world…

in the universe.