Life flips back sharply and now
I am on the outside looking in
At a Christmas Cake world,
Pressing hands and face so tight against the glass
That I can feel the warmth, smell the marzipan.

Flip, I am on the upside, looking down
At a flat world, sober when I am drunk
On bubbles of the past, tumblerfuls of now.
I am so lightheaded I can fly.
All things are implicit. Maybe I am God.

Flip, I am on the downside, looking up
Weatherbound, mortal, Lilliputian,
Waiting for the boot to grind me into pulp,
Longing for the freshness after the rain.

Flip, I am on the inside, looking out
Of life on a dubious Mobius strip.