Plan and a plan, but the new map
decides in tandem random.
Only way for a writer like me to live–
Oui, and another, verses compound and
surmount any mood or blockade
in my day–
I laugh laugh laugh,
and it frowns,
then more shoves from me.
It can’t stand me, people like me,
who swim around in pages
and skip when they should
Trot so composed. Or have that suit stroll.
No me not today not ever.