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a poem about thinking
as i think about thinking
thinking is funny little word
it’s a relentless little fucker
it runs into everything
it bumps into me even when i sip my first espresso
it spills into everything
starts and never stops
and i think
and i think
and i think
but what does it get me
where does it take me
does it help me go anywhere useful or fun or meaningful
does it save me
does it look at me and like i look at it
(no it doesn’t)
my thinking thoughts happens unconsciously most of the time
until i think on my thinking
until i watch those thoughts and question:
do they make me happier
or calmer
or able to live with myself better
(the answer is usually no)
thinking is just how my brain uses energy
and even when i truce the two sides of my noggin
the conscious and the unconscious
for a little dialogue
so we can figure this thinking thing out
i…
