Theatre of the Absurd

a drama of oddities awaits me everyday.
In life in sleep in the air that i breathe
there is a swirl of sensation,
a theatrical presentation of the absurd!
i dont know what to call it-
it supposes a different form every moment
and demands a different name.
Living alone for a long time
one tends to forget a couple of details,
overlook a few important parts
that make up a common life.
I have in fact forgotten and let it slip by me
that the life that i lead is not wholly mine,
and will never be.
Right now I am overwhelmed by the bids of some,
tomorrow I will be enveloped in the whims of others.
these phantasmagoric visions, images
will fever my mind forever,
and one day i will be startled
with the sudden and complete pause.
There will be nothing left to claim then
nothing that has not been labelled already
as someone else's precious memory.
All I will be left with then
is a point of view.
A daughter's, a wife's, a mother's.
And borrowed fragments of images.
I will jostle for space in a crowd
and wait for the auction to begin.
Then I will pretend to be satisfied
with the vestiges i am able to gather
with my limited resources.