But of course, this is what we do.
We carry-on our lives as if
the center of the universe is
where we are, as if what happens
to oneself is all there is.

The good is just as it should be;
the bad, unique–a cruel mistake,
a fault not ours.  As if catastrophe
not here, not now, can go away,
we deal with it by turning-off TV.

As if I am too small a camera
to catch it all–or even tolerate it
if I could–I filter and forget.
Recall how Bishop Berkeley whispered darkly:
“If I don’t see you, you don’t be you.”

Which, perhaps, is why, old friend,
the last time that we met
you sat there, in that chair
and that is where you will remain
until we meet in actuality again.

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