thinking aloud
not thinking clearly
all runs together
like watercolors in the rain
like songs sung in Russian
like similes,
and touches every nerve, every synapse
finding concentration difficult
labored, disjointed
the beginnings of sleep stealing in from the edges
and morning approaching surely
and the half-open, drowsy days of spring
lurk ahead in the shadows like muggers in alleys
and the symbols lose meaning
and the simple cold truth is
i need to be alone now
awaiting further orders
please advise

-- 6th March 1997