Think About It
The mind takes little jaunts in the brains jalopy,
the galaxy its playground, our body a rocket.
The mind soars over North and South America.
From this distance it reminds me of the letter m
or a family bible opened at the psalms.
Like a little brother, it follows you everywhere.
You were contented contemplating Mary Jos pants
until the mind excitedly interjected.
But who needs indecision at a time like this?
The mind is an organ, like skin.
At the same time, it doesnt actually exist,
much as God or Superman.
A terrible thing to waste, the mind
is like a bird on a snowy tree branch.
Happy to revel in its own non-being.
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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 43 | Spring 2014