On The Verge (?)

Some nights (and days for that matter),

I feel that Iím on the verge of insanity.

Whether it is a pleasant form of insanity

or one that knocks me from the surface

Iím not sure

Iím uncertain; but whatís new, Sue?

I survey empty spaces

Light the last of wicks

Drink bottles with no liquid

Smile the smile that no one sees

I remember things that Iíve never remembered until now

The horse running alongside my truck

That waitress or that schoolteacher

I see the starsĖ same as theyíve always been

ísíall so clear in these moments

And yet Iím on the verge

The verge, then, is to be questioned

Where does it lead, where does it go?

Would I return? Would I care?

And would I know

O would I know

If I were already there?