Canto CCXXXIX

I ask myself if Plato ever spent
48 hours in an induction bay?
Sometimes we get the chance to reaquaint

ourselves with outer corridors where we
think of ourselves as being “outside”.
After midnight, when I finally

exit the hospital, I often find
a powerful sense of unreality
about the rain soaked pavements and the lines

of blossoming, yellow tinted trees
in sodium light. It’s easier to breathe
in this world, momentarily relieved

from all we’re yet to face inside our cave.

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