Every day, I look into the distance.
Not because I expect something to change,
but because it might.
Thoughts drift in,
like paper boats.
Some sink.
Some float.
None stay long.
A daydream follows me around.
It asks inconvenient questions in a polite tone:
What if?
Why not?
Reality feels negotiable.
Like it could be edited.
Or slightly out of focus.
I keep looking.
Just in case it all makes sense one day.
So far, it hasn’t. But the view is nice.
