Derrida

Jackie D stayed
In his pyjamas all day.
Adorned in blue to anytime
Be ready for a snooze.
But if we could race and I’d find out
whose houseshoes would get first worn out
We would have a tie.
Like that couture fine line
between trivial light
and a blackened sky.
The moon might don a raincoat
In the cold choppy waters
Beneath our lifeboat, until
The sun sets fire
to my heart, I require
to know, Jackie D,
Does the Other
wear a robe?
Is it aware
Of me?


 

I have a bad habit of starting a poem and losing my primary point halfway through. Perhaps that is the point?

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