a series of experiments: not a story of excitement

it took awhile
to shake off dreams
that i must have zoned out through
so that they never happened
it took awhile
to find my eyes in their hollow cavities
and rub them into action
it's the kind of day
where i want to wake
with someone singing a song
just for me

later, standing
i wondered if the mushrooms i was slicing
were too old to eat
if the eggs i cracked were bad
i cooked them up with confidence
adding them to my series
of experiments i've been running
like getting out of bed some days
trying to be nice to someone
who people might not try to be nice to
very often
this is one too

i take a moment to imagine two things
there's me in a lab coat
behind a plexiglass window
hanging in midair
with a clipboard
i watch myself do everthing
sometimes writing notes
there's a reader of this poem
holding a flimsy piece of paper
and they yawn

i am sitting down to try again
this is not an exciting story
the most exciting thing that happened
was shaving my beard
jaw line reappeared
a narrow face and pointed chin
a kept a black mustache
like an upside down u
i don't want to tell the things
that are exciting
they are better in person

this is an experiment
to tell how it is
sitting in the corner looking out
popping a balloon at a party
watching ripples of reaction
spread across the room
little jumps and somewhat wild looks
for something that can't be seen
i laughed hardest then
with a wide open mouth
stretching my new mustache
i laughed the hardest i had in weeks
having stored up reactions
to many things i found less than funny

the eggs and mushrooms disapear
-food is sometimes the greatest magician
i wish it wore black silk capes-
mixing in my stomach
with my dietary fiber
another experiment, with measurable results

this is an attempt at reassurance
after a slow start
with eyes in hollow caves
a bad taste in my mouth from business
if i call this an experiment
i cannot expect results
over my shoulder in a lab coat
i take notes
notice that yawn again