Wrapped tight in a grey blanket
Staring for what feels like hours
Dead inside
And the soft fabric slowly sleeps as minutes pass
Until it sits around my waist
I stand up to readjust
The only movement in hours
The blanket falls from the chair
A puddle of sadness on the floor
I scoop it up and let it hug around me one more
Returning to my staring it does it once more
My grey puddle of sadness on the floor

If I were a steaming cup of tea-
Fresh from the kettle-
And you were a solid cube of ice
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were a hot blacktop pavement-
Searing from the sun-
And you were a sticky piece of gum
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were a pocket to a pair of overalls-
Tumbling from the dryer-
And you were a waxy type of crayon
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were myself-
Sizzling from your love-
And you were yourself-
Going in for a hug-
You’d melt me like a puddle, and we’d be one.

this is what comes next,
we have learned
to wait for
this.

The world, the environs of me i see,
have changed
or become

other than I imagined in the illusory phaze

visual-real-aural-real-terror-real ah,

no
right no holy terror here, we past that.

title-mebbe Ignorance is a choice, it is vain,
the effing efforting to ig nobel so high a wave as mine.

Rock and roll poets with scientific magi making tools
that obey our virtually

every
whim. Imagine that. We did. What now?
or ance, re ignorance
mebbe

a dance,
a wee twist that tugs us back to unem,

we chuckle. You know, if you have not thought
how happy after right now,
might work if it were your might that makes it work,

then. This is that. In a poem. A poem puddle the flow flowed to.

Friends among stars
As we are flying through the moon's shadow
When time is irrelevant
Arent we just splashing in a puddle of space and time

You're like a shallow puddle,
But with every word that you say
You trick me into drowning.

Reflections in a puddle
distorted curiosity
there's more truth
to these ripples
than my mirror