I cross my legs—not my mind, sitting
On a chair next to the bay window to prop
Up a notepad, I see a family of turkey
Looking for breakfast in the morning haze,
In the field across the street,
A dogged tide of thoughts rushes to shore
With the repeated sinewy siren of question
Why and what am I doing now?
Life spelled in thoughts and rhetoric
Is situationally unique, I’m told,
But there is no difference in the spell check—
L-I-F-E with a silent “E” to liven up “I.”
My small thoughts are like the silent “E”
To liven up the collective values
Like a droplet in the ocean.
However dogged and ragged my thoughts
Are, they are uniquely mine, so I think.
But wrong! Look at the spell check.
If I reverse “I” with “E,”
The spell check checks me out.
Life is contradictory. My little raft
Riding the long river crosses
Many lands with many tongues,
Even the sign languages have their own rules.
The tide retreats back to the big waters
Leaving a line on sand,
Meanwhile I uncross my legs
But the thoughts cross my mind.
Year of the Rat