thoughts, like baggage,
rotating about the conveyor belt.
each package apart and aloof
chasing the next and the next
but from the same main vein,
arise.
this ventricle is fed
from far off places,
having been in many mouths
before being deposited
in this one.
as new bundles arrive,
the older ones are caste aside,
in a pile they lay,
waiting to be claimed,
some stolen
some maimed.
all of their contents,
essentially the same,
the outer most layers
almost as empty,
almost as lame.
yet there is an owner,
someone follows,
waits and scampers to offload
what they believe is of their own.
but all are the same,
all are alone.
3 comments:
AA lost my suitcase once on a trip to lake tahoe - damn it sucked...if it contained a thought for every piece of clothing in there, i'd steal it too
it's like the stock market: everyone standing in a plain room -- staring at the same thing -- ready to snatch when the time is right.
and then, you realize your thought was stolen. robbed blind.
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