Entering a
storm about to take down the
ship and the
sailors the
cook the
captain and the
mice and all the
gold
is not as
bad as forgetting
where the
ship with its
staff and the
mice searching for
crumbs in the
gold were
headed in the
first place

"I'm not a robot,"
you tell a web page,
neither thinking
nor blinking,
mildly befriending the rage.

Monkey's in the wild,
the coffee's spilled.

What was it again?