Everything about you is strange. 
That is, interesting for its own sake,
pressing itself upon the whole body 
of your attention and imagination. Do you see 
the shiver move over tall grass, compelling
evidence a love-lorn god pursues his tryst.

Moving like an astronaut on Mars,
a foreign coin in your hand,
anyone might run after you as if
trying to catch a balloon before it floats off:
"You sure you're alright, mate?"
I believe you would find some well-worn words
to palm them off with.

But relating this quality of light 
would require new words not summoned yet.
Are you so weary your dream will not wait?
Generated or discovered, soft music
plays to slow you down, hold you there.
You'll be home soon enough, proving again
from the head of the table, nothing is strange.