I pour the contents of my heart's whim onto paper
it shrivels with fear
beating like the chittering teeth of a freezing Eskimo
I poke it,
ever cautious,
with a long pointed stick
It shudders
flinches
jumps five whole feet
as if struck by lightning
I decide to replace the poor hairy beast
opening up my chest,
reconnecting all the loose wires,
and closing the whiny mechanical door.
The hinges squeal like hungry piglets
I burp, and say, "Ah, s'just heartburn."