Epiphany and a Pooper Scooper

I have lifted my eyelids in a strange
barrier camp, a foreign universe
resting within the cosmos.

I am dwelling in the great nest
of democracy, (the nest of capitalism)
and I have joined the right percentage,
our rooms conjoined like my wedding
ring (the circular love of humanity,
the karma of souls) within
the jewelry box in our republican home.

He knocks on my door, red eyes
and all. He is no bum rescuing a dog.
He is better high. He knocks
on my door to wake and bake.
I invite him in.

She knocks on my door, and we
are divided by the door into two sides
like her bipolar trips to the hospital,
split in the nesting abyss,

antique cosmos floating house,
a vintage haven.

And my dog is free now like myself.
Water runs from my eyes like our old
tub, and he is the jet circling
in a fenced backyard.

I am elated by his freedom.
I am not far behind.