Makes you think

Zaphnath-Paaneah

I was a carburetor in another life or was that a lotus?
I fell six feet deep into a meadow, it’s a bit different
when you’re not used to the tightrope,
the trapezists keep flitting about mussing your hair,
though the air is more fragrant up there even if it’s thinner.

If you’ll just give me three fricken seconds and a cocktail,
I’d surely defer to your exquisite judgement in all matters
concerning solid state rocket fuel and the arrangement
of pictures, a little to the left you say? Less oxygen?
Let’s start again, would you like it here or there?

If I could just make it without a hitch I could move up
to garden gnome next year, a few more and I’m set up
to become my own small business-owner, or a lightbulb changer,
these elegant fingers will pry no more but flit and play
shadow puppets in…

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