Symptomatic Of The Times
I had a
thought once
but it
ran away.
said I
didn’t treat it well
enough.
not enough
sugar from the
bowl at breakfast.
or perhaps,
I never folded
its socks
just right, like
it said its mother
used to
A thought with
folded socks
and
how!
abstract figments
tidier than
I.
odder things
could fall
on my ears.
but they
haven’t.
Love,
Muse