Wake

at the table in our favourite place
the waiter I asked not to give me another drink
no matter what I say or do
laughs, and I wonder if you feel it in your bones
way beyond the final shiver
when all the moments mass to dive
into this abiding everlasting electricity
how the something we feel pass
bristles, holding on long enough
to catch a glimpse of grass seeds
waver over the splinters of being’s shards
shedding to wind and ray and fire
wherein each gust of smile yells back
order, you know what for me the special
knack of the right time to have told me
the sins of the living parade anonymously
settling by the solitary knife and fork
that space where all things can be accounted for