These days, moments seem wispy
around the edges. Time sways.
Something’s gone from where it was
and I’m pretty sure I didn’t move it.
Of course, one cannot be sure.
There are no cameras.
No witnesses, really, no mice in the corner
shaking their little gray heads.
No flutter of butterflies, either, is moving
thoughts or things in moments when attention
floats, when the fluff of life rolls gently
across the empty prairie.
So tell me.
Where did the directions go? The printer ink?
The glass of water that only moments ago
was in my hand? And how did my office door
swing open in the silence just now all by itself?
Surely there’s an explanation for such movement.
Parallel realities? Teleportation gone rogue?
An invasion of invisible alien crickets
sneaking about, rearranging the flowers?
Or could it be that in absent moments
we’re swathed in the silk of sweet nothings
from angels or muses, or skinny-dipping
in wisdom on the other side.
Do these out of body moments play
with time and attention to elevate us,
bring knowledge within — up — to soothe the soul,
give wings to worn out worries?
Does the runaway thought, the lost spoon,
the sudden inspiration suggest a spiritual touchdown?
Or is it a reprieve?
A welcome pillow for the far-flung mind?
In timeouts, are we exploring faraway places,
visiting distant shores
luxuriating in the soothing sunshine
of Universal love?
Yes, I’m sure that’s it.
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