Didn’t see myself sleeping once,
I was so awake.
Maybe it was the coffee.
Maybe I just wasn’t watching.
Maybe it’s the thinking that leads me
to the thought that I’ll ever catch me dreaming.
Sunshine, drifting.
Scars will lift me.
We’re fine, you with me?
I’ve never known where I’m going
or what I’m doing
or how they see me,
so I keep to myself, breathing,
wondering if I’m still sleeping.
Floating downstream.
I was awake for years.
Sometimes I still am,
only during the day these days.
Dreaming when I can.
Didn’t see myself leaving once,
I fell out of touch.
Maybe it was the coffee.
Maybe I just wasn’t watching.
Maybe it’s the knowing that’s bringing me
to the notion that none of this is dreaming.
Floating downstream.
I was awake for years,
Sometimes I still am,
only during the day these days.
Dreaming when I can.
Are things still dreams when they happen?
Why do they always seem to happen?
Maybe I’ve already thought of it all.
Watch long enough and I’ll figure it out,
little better maybe,
definitely different.
You spoke and I listened.
By my side, we were walking.
The future followed us, talking.
You brought the book that our lives made,
while the thought of it all sat
and glistened in the shade.
this is your life chuck johnson 