|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
it's 9am
mylast guest has gathered
his clothing
and personal affects
and my door is closed behind him
then I turn
and see the room
but to give you
this view
I must back up
to explain that
at about 8 last night
a group of people
began to gatehr
at my studio apartment
on a mission of serious
hardcore recreation
fast forward now through
13 hours of everything
that nine people
could think yo do in the name of fun
then drop it all
in a blender
and cue the full majestic glory of sunrise
and you've got it
9am
but my eyes are held wide open
by a night of conversation
of intellectual
and soulful stimulation
and a curious thing happens next...
because before I even stop to think,
"My God, what a mess,"
I realize that before my eyes
is something that I've only heard about
in stories
I am standing in a footprint
a footprint as deep as my apartment and as long as the night is wide
something huge, with its head in the clouds and
both feet on the ground
yes, that tall
it stopped here for a moment
on its way to
wherever it is
that such things go
but standing here, at 9am, I can still see where its toes curled
and tangled the sheets on my bed
and I remember
that it was here
I heard its laughter, and its stories
and listened to the songs from its heart
for a moment 13 hours long, I looked into its eyes
and read the words on its lips
I felt it
touch me
and if
in its passing
it may have tipped an ashtray
or a beer
I am still glad that it was here
another day
I will complain about the mess
but right now I can't care less
and I cannot wish
for absence
because right now
I am standing
in a footprint