Where Are We

Then there’s this scene of seeing things which 

are common place, elevated majestically, as if 

they’d earned more space in being demeaned; 

ordinarily, we’d never see a difference - even it 

didn’t scheme itself as our phlegmatic reality - 

less fey dramatics o’ theatrical change - & yet,  

perchance, one might ask - just whose stretch 

of imagination gave birth to this ‘catastrophe’ 

But, for what its worth - they all dance silently 

in step to an air only they can hear,  and there 

is no explanation. So where are we if not here 

on th’ same floor. Th’ answer’s contained in a 

raw simile - either we dance to the same tune 

& be at their party - or leave by another door 

© 12 April 2018, I. D. Carswell