into the womb of humanity
The blanket of anonymity
the head uncovered,
toes sticking out
Lonely but a part of something
one of us and the big real truth
and endless sentance we're typing
Out the window on the street
the arguments and homeless
and cars passing
going home to work
resteraunts, movies, to see friends,
to bars, to explore,
to the ocean, changing lanes,
just passing through
between parking spaces
At the end of the day everyone
in the bathroom relieving
taking showers, flossing and yawning
shampooing and dawning upon sleep
going together to sleep together and dream,
and in dreaming realize their part
in the blanket and their connection
to the whole mess of machinery and motion,
to know their neighbors as themselves
as they know the rocks of the earth to be themselves
and the dirt and the air and the rest
becoming clay I shape
into a likeness of myself
lying in bed
in Seattle
in August
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