Floating on a dream

A thought, eyes open startled--

Pen feels icy cold.

Lately my head has been bulging with

ideas, for no apparent reason. Well,

perhaps the reason is apparent but

the stream of ideas aren't particularly

noteworthy but are streaming, nonetheless,

sometimes at a rapid pace. They come out

of nowhere, like heat seeking missiles,

and can strike at inopportune moments.

On the shuttle, in the car, on a run, while I'm

talking to someone. "Excuse me while I

interrupt our conversation to write down

a little blurb that's nagging my brain and

yes, I have been listening to you." You see

the awkwardness in this whole messy business?

I suppose I should be happy that life's flotsam

and jetsam is floating around in my brain and

making me want to pick through it to find

small treasures worthy of space in my moleskine

or in my "blog of the five followers." But, it is

annoying. Here's a poem describing this:

Distraction

A bit of something, a thought, I panic

Hold it, hum it, la dee dah

A tune, a ditty drilled into jingle

Dum Dee Dum Dee Dum Dee Dum

Rifling through satchel, la la la la la

Crap, where's my pen La dee dah

She slides the window... dum dee dum dee dum

Open... I turn, distracted

Her black nail polish chipped, la dee dah dee

Why black? dah

...Gone...

On a cool breeze up with Widow Makers

La la la de fuckin' dah.

The image is a photo of Phoebe's. I think this

is an appropriate time for its use.