Random phrases float effortlessly in my mind.
Thoughts and ideas left from other mad fits of genius.
(Or not). But, I’ve got all these things to say
that in a way gives life to my minutia.
I run each one up the flagpole and salute you
for being interested enough to read my mind and worry.
(Wouldn’t life be easier if spoken in cloud-like bubbles;
all your troubles and emotions suspended
in an unending tirade or titillation?) There is no greater
frustration in speaking your mind only to find
yourself looking like an ink drawing (in a four panel spread).
I would dread the moment my eye wanders and
the onlookers can read my lascivious letching.
So, I’m left fetching my gum eraser and removing
any trace of thoughts (in an effort to save face).
But if you float it out there, your muse ever-hangs in mid-air.
An animated existence in this surreal deal called life (punch line not included!)