3 a.m.
and the road out here
is quiet as the moon
normally some solitary soul
would be puttering by even
at this hour but
it's Easter morn and
everyone's sleeping on
their modified plans
no mass (no mas)
and you've got no one
to model your bonnet for
but you've got that chocolate
bunny you will mash into
your face at the appropriate moment
fingers all black and sticky
with the mortal sin of it but
on the third day you will rise
and begin your diet
no rest for me
up working again
on the new book
still trying to learn how
after all this time
to fit into this skin
less awkwardly
to be a "person"
inhabiting a planet
and to tone down the
frightful jitters of that
not my nature to feel at ease
inside this meat suit
(something I've seldom
talked about)
having decided
that burning the candle
at both ends
is the only thing
that will distract me
from the terrible Mork-ness of it
I'm not from around here
and I've given up fighting
the insomnia
just incorporated
the extra hours into my
routineless routine
still trying to skate by
beneath this scorched
and blackened sky
