Shell

	Turn a card, turn a page,
	the action sure to start,
	second-stage reaction
	to illogical thoughts on random lines –
	in a Borges dream we move toward
	the writing of lives.
	Leave it out, leave it in, no edits –
	with a shout, with a grin I said
	it was a certainty that I'd arrive
	in an Escher sketch
	we walk around the drawing of lines.
	The character uncertainty
	as he contemplates his lot
	and tries to move with urgency
	though he's rooted to the spot.
	On the brink, on the edge,
	but lately what I think,
	what I said escapes me
	in a flash, a tiger burning bright –
	does the visionary trance obscure
	the burgeoning night?
	And she said "What are you doing?"
	And he said "What do you think?"
	Oh, no, what on earth are we doing?
	The characters procrastinate
	on the threshold of the door;
	there's something here that fascinates,
	though the meaning's still unsure
	and the plot so thick.
	Is it some kind of history?
	Sketch the thumbnail to the quick.
	Oh, even though it's full of contradiction,
	though it's flawed in the design
	this is no fiction,
	it's a lifeline.
	Here we are, there we went, full circle,
	shooting stars, heaven-sent,
	turned turtle on the beach
	our shells are left behind
	life a library, like a memory
	of our ghost-written lives.

	Turn a card, turn a page,
	the action sure to start,
	secondstage reaction
	to illogical thoughts on random lines
	in a Borges dream we move toward
	the writing of lives.
	Leave it out, leave it in, no edits
	with a shout, with a grin I said
	it was a certainty that I' d arrive
	in an Escher sketch
	we walk around the drawing of lines.
	The character uncertainty
	as he contemplates his lot
	and tries to move with urgency
	though he' s rooted to the spot.
	On the brink, on the edge,
	but lately what I think,
	what I said escapes me
	in a flash, a tiger burning bright
	does the visionary trance obscure
	the burgeoning night?
	And she said " What are you doing?"
	And he said " What do you think?"
	Oh, no, what on earth are we doing?
	The characters procrastinate
	on the threshold of the door
	there' s something here that fascinates,
	though the meaning' s still unsure
	and the plot so thick.
	Is it some kind of history?
	Sketch the thumbnail to the quick.
	Oh, even though it' s full of contradiction,
	though it' s flawed in the design
	this is no fiction,
	it' s a lifeline.
	Here we are, there we went, full circle,
	shooting stars, heavensent,
	turned turtle on the beach
	our shells are left behind
	life a library, like a memory
	of our ghostwritten lives.