The Pansy Sun

So now I flutter my eyelids,
the grace of the sun in my window
polite as to try not to wake me -
misguided, as now I am late.
Good intentions, shy as a sparrow
my pretentious hands will shove them aside!
and cry,
you bastard, you blind
I cut off my eyelids, I tear out my eyes.

But no, so softly I flutter my eyelids,
In grace I'd forgotten,
forgotten my place.
Chopin and Berlioz hum through my lips-
that's a lie,
I know not
either of these.

I hurry my routine
damn light, damn sunlight
and your quiet peeping
that gave me this plight!
and I shove food in my mouth
as my feet quicken pace,
and my eyes dart ahead
and I fight for my place,
and the sun rises, rises,
burning my eyes,
when I want to sleep
to sleep
to lie.

But, so softly I flutter my eyelids
lips tight together in silence,
in smiling and sipping
my warm beverage-drink.
Of bouncing and dancing and thinking, I think.
I bask in the sun and I think, I think.

(Damn me leaving my alarm clock on the bus.
The sunlight is too pansy to wake me up.)