Every day I wake up different

Every day I wake up different

It happens every few days:
I wake with a start,
Flushed at the awakening
Amazed at the dreams I'd been toiling through.

It's as though a film
Had been pulled back from my eyes,
Or a dusty window pane
Had just swung open.

Yawn and stretch.
Oh, so great to be whole
And in control!

But scarcely has the flush subsided
Then I awake again.

Again and again it happens,
The credibility of the moment
Jousts with the incredulity
Born of recent experience.

(In the movies, a man gone heartless
One day finds himself again,
He sobs and turns
Over a whole old leaf.

In the real world, a man
Has too many awakenings;
Lucid moments are brief
And contradict one another.)