136/ We all go mad in different ways

In the bar, there she is, looking away.
She gets up, I don’t look across,
give her the satisfaction
of ignoring me.
You think about her life
and how she sees it.

Are we real, or do we imagine it?

We all go mad in different ways:
waking up, naked and flying
in night skies
over leaning stones,
through the park
and across the tennis court.