ode to confusion

Confusion
like peppermint in the oregano patch
like a child waking up
at the new babysitter’s.
The perfection of a madness
when dishes go in the bathroom
and cell phones in the freezer.

Keep your eye on the car keys. . .

The confusion of brain cells dying
like lemmings off cliffs.
Wear of hope,
longing for perfection,
and reaching,
reaching,
reaching. . .

Where memory touches
dreams –
touches movies
and stories
but the "I" stringing it all together
gets
mis-
placed (?)

Confusion creeps in
and takes
thoughts
leaving
empty s p a c e s
just to antagonize.

Leaving us
gasping for air
and wishing,
wishing,
she (I, we?) was the tidy
slightly disorganized
person
that she (I, we?) used to be
instead of this new
unpredictable
kind of
crazy.

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