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Bamboozles often and frequently slam my zoozle 
with gobsmack confusion attacks,so much so that I thought 
this unsated mental state was everyone’s slate of facts.
If we were to muse on bamboozles, as such, I would 
happily offer some of my much:

When I’m the only female riding in a car,
all passengers hand me their trash – what the bizarre?
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At home, I see everything everywhere
until I need it – then it’s hiding nowhere.
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No matter how much I read in hair product aisles,
understanding what all does remains a trial.
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My family truly confuses my female parts for a locator.
They ever seek me to seek their needs,
but then, none could find a whole pig in the refrigerator.
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I once woke and then made my face up,
now, I try to erase it with all sorts of funky stuff.
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When I’m focused on a TV show, everyone speaks,
comes a commercial and there’s not a single peep.
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My sock graveyard has a higher sock score
than any family member’s sock drawer.
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No one can tell navy blue clothes and hose from black,
why can’t we simply eliminate navy to solve that?
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When my house is totally clean, no visitors come to my domestic scene.
When my home if filth awry, the whole world decides to come on by.
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Never, please, never direct me to go east, west, north or south!
I don’t wish to brake, exit the car and sun scout.
For me, left or right is best for arrival to work out.
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One morning I prayed for my child while driving to work –
I got a ticket for running a red light.  A prayer perk?

Have I shared too little or spilled so much that my poem is reader abuse?
I have no answer for this issue, so I leave you to muse my new confused.








...CayCay
October 28, 2018
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