The Three Princes of Serendip

Swiftly swallowing resentment of play Acting and dancing to music Shallow beats and tambourines There are wild hills full of echo Mindless ghouls and children skipping through fog Thick and wet - pouring through my hair Clever retort from beleaguered little men and women Rheum, flowing mind, draining into a styrofoam cup Hot with pulp and grit, my body purges Life's collar-key broken by bone and rock I am left alone to wander the plains Of my self-consciousness. I search. Something is always missing, always running Away from hands that will not catch My eyes are not quick enough to see.