Lucidly

There are great gaps in his memory.
Some caused by age and the deluge of booze, to be sure.
Others by repression or indifference.
Some of these gaps can be filled by prompting,
especially those times when he viewed the world like a movie camera,
always expecting the film to run out,
not caring.
He would still walk and talk,
see, hear and do,
it made no difference if it was being recorded.

Today he gets up.
Not particularly tired,
no more than usual.
Just the usual,
not enough sleep,
never enough sleep.
He hasn’t been particularly busy,
it makes no difference anyway.
Always wakes up with too little sleep, not deep enough,
or a massive hangover.
Only those two options.

It doesn’t show.
Oh, you can see he is tired.
But you can’t see if there is film in the camera.
He showers, dresses,
makes breakfast of a crispy bacon sandwich on crusty white bread,
with tea.
Eats it reading something,
it could be anything.
But still he smiles,
occasionally.

On his way to his job
there is fog,
the cables of the bridge disappear skywards,
skyhooks!
He grins,
lucidly.