Firefly

Here now
(where else?),
with the entire gaze of the universe
focused on me.

But it isn’t really about me
(or is it?).
Whom am I, anyway,
myself to be stared at like this?

And it is precisely me
(again)
wearing my blue terry cloth bathrobe, feet
propped on a chair, as usual—

just a temporary situation

(‘tis said, and I’ll admit)—
for a flashing instant to be one of those
whom God is looking at.