Like a house in a dream

I do not know this body in which I live anymore
Like a house in a dream
I wake up in it
I move from room to room
But everything is different
Alien in unanticipated ways

My thighs which when bare
used to crush together as people
on a Tokyo subway car
Now barely kiss
Close cousins in childhood
who only see each other at funerals these days

Hands and feet have become knobby at the joints
Tendons undulating as the digits move
Pulse fluttering periwinkle beneath the veil of flesh
They used to wear a thick cloak
Hiding their intricacies and vulnerabilities
Revealed only when bombarded by high photon energy

But it is not only the appearance
of my body which has changed
So, too, has its function
Where once 13 stairs were a chore
117 no longer quicken my breath
I hurl myself to the floor
Kick out and back in
Jump up and reach for the sky
Over and over
Because I can
Standing from a sit effortless
It doesn't require working up to
After a pop quiz of physical calculus

I draw my knees to my chest
Hold them there
Embrace myself comfortably
The whole of me encircled within my arms

But this house I'm dreaming
Is drafty
Cold all the time
And so easily bruised
Blood blooms beneath the veneer
In oily rainbows
Spills for which I cannot account
I careen into things
Forget the impact
Left with an ugly souvenir
Like so many blackout Amazon purchases
Without the economic drain
Or the surprise awesomeness

I know this thing is assuredly mine
By the scars
And the freckles
The keloid chicken pox scar on my shoulder
The anime eyes
But I wonder for how long
Will I always know myself
Or will the scene shift and leave me in a nightmare
Of my own unmaking