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.
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