"Where are you?"

Under a desk

Hiding from whatever may be out.

Flying fedoras,

Explosive evergreens,

Bitter birds—

They're all there.

 

"I don't see them…"

But I do,

I can't escape them,

They'll always be with me,

I'm forever in fear.

 

"But they aren't real."

Yes they are,

They're real as real can be.

Bubbles,

Caterpillars,

Curling rinks,

Oversized miniature floor tiles,

Bread,

Snow globes—

They come whenever they come,

Sometimes together,

Sometimes separately.

I can't stop them,

You can't stop them,

They're natural.

 

"Why can't you stop them?"

They're in my mind,

My dangerous mind.

I'm crazy,

I can't—

I shouldn't—

Be thinking these things,

It's not right.

 

"But if it's just your imagination—"

Imagination is a hazard,

The exposure makes you mad.

Do you think these things?

 

"Not those exactly—"

You see?

I'm mad,

Everyone says I'm mad,

Everyone is right.

I'm different.

 

"You're not mad, I have thoughts just like those,

Everyone does."

If everyone does,

Then why should I keep them to myself?

 

"You shouldn't.

Stop fearing the judgment."

But I do feel fear,

I do fear the comments,

But more than that,

I fear myself.

 

"Good."

Good?

 

Pineapples on hardwood floors,

Croquet mallets and K-Pop stars,

Grain with musical dance numbers,

Cucumber soap operas