Couch cushions

by Aleza Freeman

The child wonders if
everything else stops
when she’s left alone.

It’s not that she thinks she’s
the center of the universe.
She’s not a narcissist, yet.

Hasn’t heard the theory
nothing exists
unless we observe it,

the philosophy of tree
to woods, fall to sound.
No one hears.

It’s difficult to stretch
a trusting mind around
six billion realities.

Much easier to accept
comfortable walls of familiarity
without unruly interference.

Kids run on the playground,
grown ups argue  in the bedroom.
Really, it’s all the same game,

we take risks, map out our
strategy, leave behind pieces
hidden in couch cushions.

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