A Waning Interest in the Present

My favorite little poem of last year.

A Waning Interest in the Present

Your daydreams in rogue waves fell
crashing and smashing, conquering the rocks
Only to recede with the glazed eyes
revealing the vacant beach, a wasteland
Where occasionally you found
an interesting shell, an inimicable treasure
enough to make you wring your hands
and question, "What am I doing here?"