sometimes it is all about taste,
other times it was just the rush of haste,
now you wonder how they could have been so rude,
then you feel compelled by change of scene
and walk out in the nude,
on occasions you can’t tell for sure
a single damned thing in this world,
the next morning all things appear crystal-clear
and their surfaces like unfurled,
one day you blame on chance and fortune,
another it has just happened as if despite you,
at the outset you count on pre-established facts
and wait credulously on their effects,
eventually you give up and read each event
as built onto reality the same way phantoms
cross walls at random,
sometimes this, sometimes further,
this should read for something is always missing,
something sometimes I just haven’t gripped,
and sometimes confirm delivery.
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