There are pins in my head tacking
Notes to my brain
To remember what I forgot to mention.
Some have coloured plastic heads
So I know what temper the notes are
Green for natural thoughts
Orange for purple thoughts
Blue for the sky… seagulls.
Why not as it is such a nice day? Wind surfing is blowing in your ear calling…
Or telephone rings on your fingers that points beyond the horizon.
There is no going back… as the notes fade and the pins rust, their plastic heads falling off and rolling into the soup.
Waiter?… more water please.