Like Breathing

Behind the bird perched on the chair In the shade There is a submarine in the harbor In the sun---light The world doesn't laugh at us As we so often might feel But with us, though we don't always---laugh And so we organize everything around us As if it was our job to do so. All the mysterious, deepening wells of Jokes and complete nonsense found Absolutely---everywhere We try to organize. As if it was our job to do so. Though it is no more our job to Force it to all make sense then It is the bird's job to sit on the Chair in the shade with the sunlit Sub idle in the rippling water behind Her--- It is no more our job than breathing is a job. Like breathing, we just do it. There is no moral here: just sun and shade, Birds and submarines---and humans Trying to play a non-existent game, Trying to remember to laugh, trying to stop trying.