That is my Life

I walk between my kitchen

And my bedroom

Down the corridor

That is my life

I do not wield a sword

I do not dance the tango

Rose in mouth

I do not write this life

With Shakespeare’s nib

I do not inhabit the television

I cannot be found in newspapers

I am the white paint on the wall

The tube of toothpaste on the shelf

The things I hardly look at

I am half-formed thought

And I count for almost nothing

More than those quotidian thoughts

I can no longer find my hopes

That were lighted passages

Leading off the corridor

That is my life