on sadness

beneath my room
flows a river
every now and then
a song
cracks the floor
and the river
swallows me whole

*  *  *

my sadness
– when it comes –
grabs me with its skinny arm
pulls me below the surface

the next morning
my clothes are crisp and clean
and underneath my feet
one mile of bedrock

*  *  *

i’m crying
in the shower
my face
contorted with pain
are these tears i’m tasting?
or just water

who cares?
isn’t this funny?