Connected

Inside the body of sleep, each thinking we are alone & surrounded by wholly private visions, failing to recognize the animal whose footfalls we hear in place of our own, touching what we take for a wall where there are only other fingers, other skins, & waking to the smell of heat on a cool morning in early summer: I’ve turned into a tourist in my own life. I carry a camera from room to room, alert for any irruption of significance into the hum- drumming of home appliances. Someday, even my breathing will seem worthy of note.