Some people are just
so normal they're weird.
Crisp suits and coffee
in the morning,
no gin and pajamas,
how freakish.
When they get mad,
they get productive
like insects,
rather than breaking
this or that.
Everything planned,
paid on time,
reminders posted
on the walls.
No kinks in their hoses,
no brown on their noses,
hair carefully parted
in just the right place.
They don't make art,
they buy it,
hang it on the walls
and then throw a party.
How lonely,
unfulfilled,
how strange their lives
must be.
My theory is
they've yet to find anything
worth going mad for.