FULL MOON ON TOP OF A CHAMPAGNE PALM'S TIP

so many things to see
to do, outside, the sun, and
trees, and
pathways, narrow alleys
some,
and eight-lane superhighways
inside a bus
one chooses the side of the
window
hoping to forget what hurts
still, as edges of roads come
and slice
your mind, but, and this is real,
as you close your eyes,
you go back to
yourself, and to that which still
hurts, which makes
an empty space in
your heart, as you feel the hollowness
of dreams
unfulfilled, of substances light as air,
and someone sees you

blank as paper, light as cloud,
hard as another wall,
a word misspelled,
a lapse, a limp, another slip,
and you do not mind, leave it,
there, you sleep.