pre dawn deep

4 a.m.

it was one hundred o/clock

and the tide was low low low

the receding water laid bare and dry the 

artifacts of doubt and indecision

the cat snored and the radiators rattled

still in the night 

no meaning would be extracted

laying inconsolable in the shallow tidal pools

Gulliver like 

tied tightly by eleventy thousand bonds of reason 

all the while knowing beyond certainty that 

the tide would soon come in and re submerge the clues of 

self restriction  

where they would sway  and wave and shimmer in the phosphorescence

like lovers leaving forever on the conveyance of your choice here