Beneath the Windowsill

I live remembering,
A far too contented life
As paint beneath a windowsill
On the bottom of the mad hatter’s shoe

Windowsill's aware
Paint’s temporary
Stepping, dancing
Paint will peel.
Eventually I’ll be no more

Beneath the windowsill
On the bottom of the mad hatter’s shoe.

“Everything’s fine” she told me with her eyes
The windowsill
She knew my destiny
She's played this game

I knew
I knew I knew not what
Only that she did not know
Know my 1-2-3 and I feel therefore…

That color…the one I have
Nothing comes to mind
The bottom of the mad hatter’s shoe
Makes mirrors impossible

Made truly of liquid stuff
I’ll be printed all across the floor
Plainly unaware of how incredibly vast
The extension of my paint could reach


Panicked! Peeled off the floor, off the shoe
Sticking to the 1-2-3
The very last time
The first and final panic for paint
That’s not the purpose of paint!

Life to live all the while
For whom?

Told the windowsill I love her
Her color that could be mine
Her “Everything’s fine”

She’s all aching eyes
All “Knowledge” calls out
She and me are aching eyes

And the rest is a memory
The instant spent
Beneath the windowsill
On the bottom of the mad hatter’s shoe

The blessed shoe had the feeling
Like a playhouse
An invention from a childish soup kitchen
In God’s city

And you want to laugh at something like that
Really