I’ve been down this road before—
a score of times, in fact.
Which way shall I go?
What is down this path?
Time to make up your mind,
or find yourself a lost little babe in the woods.
I scratch the back of one ankle,
with the top of my other foot.
A mosquito attacks my blank head.
I swat it flat, before it can draw blood.
For the instant, I have important
work to do,or do I distract myself?
Rain begins to fall and my view
is all the more obscure.
I must focus: this time, I need to
choose the right road—
not the road of more allure.
I am paralyzed.
What I need is a monstrous machine
to rip a path straight through
I’ve always been
what you might call,
I turn, and do a flit.