he
tells me
that
it
will be
all
right

that this cave
is not real

it is a darkness
that isn\'t really black

it just feels
that way.

he
tells me
that
those noises
in
my head
are my own
sounds

-intellectual indigestion-

from
too much
thinking
too much
analyzing

the cave
that does not
exist.

and if the cave
is not
real,
then where do these
mental tremors
reside?

they\'ve paid
rent
on this place
till September
brought in their
waterbed
paid the pet
deposit to let
the
lizard stay.

(i\'d prefer
to make a nice wallet
out of that pet
and buy a nightlight
for this
imagined darkness)

i\'d prefer
to kick out the tenants...

too much smoking.
the carpet is beginning
to take on the stench and pattern
of always being vacuumed
backwards.

the walls are yellowed
and dusted
with ash and old thoughts
held between the lips and forefinger
of memory.

he
tells me
that i am the
manager
and that
it is
my place to
screen
the applicants.

he
tells me
that
not all
have
to be
admitted.

he
tells me
things
i already know.

he tells me that these places
are as big
and small
as
i
choose
to see them.

..the difference is,
with him,
i
listen.

with him,
there
is
no rent
to pay.

with him,
i don\'t
have
to explain.

and
i
wonder
when

i

will
believe

that
it is not a cave

but
a
new
universe
waiting for stars.