A mid-level consciousness

I am outside myself
which hasn’t happened since I was
in my 20s. There’s no brave new world,
just a weary one that feels like
wet newspaper. I coud use a cup of tea.

A tornado touched down nearby
but I still watched a favorite movie.
I forget the last time I watched a sunset
as I’ve been watching my own feet too long.

The landscape is lush but brushed
by grief. But it’s ok.
Nobody owes me anything.
I don’t have regrets.
The sun can dance. The moon can rest.