Sometimes I listen to the radio

As the day slowly drifts away

Sometimes I talk to the cats

As they stare at me with perplexed eyes

Sometimes I make love at noon

As the sun shines bright above

Other times

The moments

Just get away from me

Sometimes I drink coffee

As I sit on a shaded park bench

Sometimes I look at graffiti

As they wash it from the brick city walls

Sometimes I drive to the drug store

As the cars grind all about me

Other times

I just wonder

Where it all went

Life is not a narrative

Life is not a song

Life is the inanimate choosing motion

The formless fog grown quiet and long

Gene G. McLaughlin 2012