I waft on a stream of coincidence
much as I float on a warm sea.

I’ve seen this performance so many times
I sail through my part
not knowing how I know my paths, my motivation, my gestalt
yet knowing I have hit my marks.

Synchronicity fills the air of the real
elbowing in, making it thin
showing me ripples, the gathering echoes,
long before whatever is meant to disturb the stillness
does.

Whether bad manners
or vivid imagination
or desperate portents
or merely reality’s dancing indulgence
is yet to be seen…

or if I have seen already, yet to be reassembled
reconnected
referenced
real.