Once again it’s raining.
Now I’m complaining.
I must have a screw loose.
The world has become obtuse.
I think I’ll look for a Philips screwdriver
And be a neurological deep sea diver.
One by one I’d unscrew them all
And watch them hit the floor as they fall.
I’d unhinge the top of my skull then
And look at my grey brain between where and when.
I’d take a little bow and watch it tumble down.
Onto the floor it would fall. I’d kick it hard against the wall.
I wonder could I speak then or in my head make a noun.
Maybe then I wouldn’t be able to think or worry ‘bout things at all.