Scrolling

I lost my way and meandered through
a forrest—no no.

Too stereotypical.
But it was outside, surely.
Like a garden or a dancer?

But I didn’t meander through a dancer.
Perhaps in some version of this narrative, I am the dancer.
Maybe dancing more than meandering,
but I haven’t thought about it enough recently.

To be completely honest: I don’t think much now at all.

It’s all just kind of garble-y. My thoughts are here, but they are also somewhere else,
being distracted.

I buried my nose in my coffee,
hoping I can still smell.

I can.

10/9/2020