PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

~Train Of Thought While Just Doing My Job, Okay? ~

Maybe we should choose political candidates from zoos for awhile. Have a tortoise or elephant run for president. Are there red zoos and blue zoos? Sounds like a name: Redzoo Bluezoo. Jazz sax player. If someone takes possession of all the shells could he/she make turtles pay rent? Turtoi? Because turtles and tortoi don't have money they would all get evicted. There would be millions of shells for sale or rent. Ain't got no cigarettes. There must be a way to water beets in boxes in the wind besides using hose in hand. Sprinklers don't work. Wind blows the spray to some and away from some. Tombstone Territory. Wish I could tell the editors of the OED that a kestrel is not a small hawk, but a falcon. They probably don't want to hear any crap from me. Redzu Bluezu. President of the Congo Republic. I think a quiet, old, tortoise as president would be a refreshing change. An elephant might honk and stomp his feet in the west wing. I would vote for the tortoise. I had a dream I found several old chipped and broken marbles in tide pools. They were the size of duck-pin bowling balls. I thought they might be worth something even though they were in bad shape. Very unusual. Probably very rare. Sometimes I dream people want to beat me up. Scary. They sport sadistic expressions. Smiles. I picture bison as a very stately president. I might vote for a bison. Quiet. Big. Strong. Serious. Intelligent. Brave. Big, brown, eyes. I wouldn't mess with a bison. I wonder if anyone wonders what I think about as I operate the forklifts at work. Does everyone have all kinds of goofy thoughts wiggle through their brains while they work? Are thoughts like worms and snakes? Maybe jellyfish. Smart people thoughts might be more like baked potatoes and sirloin steak. A Cuban cigar. When I watch harness horse racing I picture knotty pine rooms in Minnesota with bookcases full of rare, old, books. I smell cigar and pipe tobacco. I envision wise, mellow, middle-aged men. Confident. Comfortable. At ease with themselves and the world. They don't play exactas. They bet across the board. Win. Place. Show. They win and smile at the end of the day. What are we going to do with all this used potting soil? I can't get an answer. I can get rid of it for free, I bet. Just need someone to say "go." I took apart the sprinklers, put them in a steck box and put the box on a shelf. Then I put all the boxes that were outside in the wind inside and back on shelves. Pretty soon I'll take all the boxes off the shelves and rotate all the beets into a dumpster. As Kurt Vonnegut used to say: "And so it goes." Does a train of thought have a horn and caboose? What rhymes with "Canada?" Cannon. Duh. Sorta. Is peanut butter really an invention? It has absolutely nothing in common with cars and light bulbs. You can't toss gas, oil, and steel into a grinder and come up with a car. A grinder can't turn night into day. Is it 3:30, yet?