Just on My Mind

 

What’s that

on my mind?

A whoitswhatsits

playing the

musicalioustrumpetus,

on repeat.

 

A summer evening café,

glowing in the dimming

of a setting sun,

a mind left to wander,

to find a seat

and order a drink.

 

Not that I mind,

that it’s on my mind,

and never mind the

minding of it, or

to whom should mind,

or when.

 

It’s an absent minded

tune being piped into

the stereo speakers,

of my mind, that blasted

musicalioustrumpetus,

trumpeting.

 

Although I don’t mind

the toe tapping beat,

or the hip moving rhythm,

or how it makes the ladies

dance so I can see their

underpants.    

 

That whoitswhatsits,

sitting so proudly,

sipping un café,

cigarette dangling,

knowing that I am trying

not to mind.

 

It’s on my mind,

that caviler whoitswhatsits

playing that musicalioustrumpetus,

while there’s so much

that should be on my mind,

but I’m lost, watching the ladies dance.