I wonder what it’s like
to fall asleep for a hundred million
thousand billion hours and maybe then
wake up to see if the grass has changed
or if the sky is pink or if
people are still people who fall
in love or in holes
on the side of the road.
Because I do.
Fall in holes, I mean,
and in love, because the thing is,
they’re both very well hidden and you
can’t really tell what it is until you fall
face-first into it, and then
maybe you decide to think about
what you’ve done, and maybe
you decide whether you want to
get out of it or not.
But I don’t really.
Want to get out of love, I mean,
but holes might be a different matter.
I wonder what it’s like to
live in a hole, but I don’t
really want to find out because
I don’t know if you can fall into a hole
and love at the same
exact time, and I’d really prefer to
be in the latter.
Though I wouldn’t want to climb up
one. Ladders, I mean, with two d’s,
because I’m quite afraid of heights and
I’m even afraid of growing too tall because
I’d be even higher up off the ground
than I already am (which isn’t very
high, let me tell you), which
reminds me…
I wonder what it’s like to fall
off a ladder into a hole
or love
and I guess if you were really high
up, it’d be a pretty painful thing
to do.