Some say it’s impossible

to explore every land, to sail into tropical and ice-filled waters

to fly above countries, in a hot air balloon

to violate laws, with impunity.

In the early hours, between 3 and 6 AM

I wake, before the garbage man, and the noises of the outside world

are like an alarm clock, at regular times.

I’m between half-sleeping and half-waking

Most people give up and drink coffee

I lie in bed, listening to my imagination, to short-stories of Hemingway

that were too boring to listen to, when fully awake.

In the tired state

my will succumbs to a short story

making me patient, to learn, what can only be understood

when I can’t sleep.

The day is 70 degrees

the blue lake is bluer than the blue sky

the girls giggle in bright-colored bikinis

while I listen to my friend

worrying

about his relationship.

I watch the girls

tanning.

I want to explore this world

and not myself.

I’m so tired of the inner dialogue.

I want to store-up

memories

so I’ll have them, when I can’t sleep

in my wheel-chair

in the gray and silver nursing home.

I’ll be the man who does the jumble

with a satisfied smile

searching for words

to unscramble

his mixed-up life

before enjoying

scrambled eggs

in the morning.

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