What are those words? I should have written them down.
They captured the moment and what else?
They’ll show up somewhere.
But they won’t be me.
Little old me.
Why should I care if I help you out?
Somebody else will anyway,
Get rid of that ego and don’t pout.
Someday somebody will steal your thoughts
and not even know it.
There’s got to be a solution.
A pat on your back for your thought.
Better yet your confession.
You never quite conquered the ought.
So I leave it to you, Bubbles.
Shake open your tops and your end.
Catch my breath in that crevasse.
I‘m elongated as you bend.