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I Sleepwalk Through the Wakers' World
by David Matthews

I sleepwalk through the wakers' world,
The moon at my feet,
Time in my hand,
A symphony turned inside out.
Violins brighten the air above the river.
A young woman in a loose-fitting black shift and Doc Martens
Pedals a bicycle blue as sky across quiet water,
Her fair face, her white hair...
She makes me twenty-two years old again,
And she leaves me a hundred and ten...

I sleepwalk through the wakers' world,
Impersonating myself,
Waiting for someone who can tell me who I am.

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