A painless headache
It’s feet in my stomach
It’s treading water
Waiting for an answer
The mailbox is empty
I’m expecting a delivery
And left the door cracked
Eight states border Missouri
My house, today slated with misery
Where is the shipment of citrate from Avalon
To line my parapet?
Spent the day making love to a watch
To the pace of the grandfather clock
My reflection in the tock
of its brazenly arched pendulum —
revealing my concave awareness
All the while... where’s my answer?
Where’s peace to grasp?
Just when I nearly accepted that I was abandoned
I remembered I forgot to ask