the creative

I can’t catch any of the thoughts;

They ping from left skull to right skull

Like balls in a Blackberry phone.

“I need to text back …”

BOING

“The laundry is piling …”

BOING

“Don’t forget to pick up …”

BOING

“I think if I could just …”

BOING BOING BOING.

They hop from one wrinkle to the next

Like rabid thought bunnies.

Like rapid thought bubbles

Popping the moment I get close.

So I grab my phone because at least it stays put,

And that’s how creativity dies.