The monkey was not aware,
but I was prepared.
Not wanting to move into the day,
I said let me be patient.
I don’t know why the monkey is slow.
If the disturbance is frustration
with terribly-unaware, marinated monkeys,
the solution is patience and tolerance.
The Brontosaurus was eager
to flatten me like thin roast beef,
but the solution is the same,
and get out of the way, if you can.
Run, run, run away,
and dip toes gently in the ink,
and float above,
sprinkling sand on the monkey,
sand from the eternity of my peace.
stillfugue 