A mental wind with unthinking gusts has uprooted my
thoughts
and now they tumble about in unsettling directions.
I have
lost my focus amidst the dust and misfired synapses.
Perhaps
more noticeable to others than I appreciate.
Surely,
I am off on some adventure of great import, doing what thinking I have left;
sipping an aromatic tea designed to calm such mental winds as I have suffered.
Should
you find the pages I’ve lost, stack them at the side door with the milk
bottles. Set upon them a heavy idea to
hold them down.
When
my return is discovered, it may be that I am huddled in a blanket, sitting in
the bleachers - cheering for the other side.
Then again, it’s altogether possible you’ll find yourself sitting next
to me at an establishment of tables.
Know
what I lack in social graces I make up for in random thoughts - though hardly worth the penny.
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