something just collide with the web inside of my head,
rippling throughout my brain; an association sticks.
I do not manufacture my own thoughts,
they come to me
not through me;
no one knows exactly how I tick.
Every thing, every object, has a label, every label
a memory I have captured and embalmed.
I have known Sacred Experiences; so, please
don’t squawk to me about the weather.
It is not effortless.
I am not fluent in small talk; I have to interpret.
I’d prefer we disarm one another-
to know your thoughts on the afterlife, the significance
of cause and effect, your favorite song and why, or converse
about the birds and the trees or whatever
is really on your mind.
I promise, in turn, to do the same-
to show you my insides.
I am an open book;
Whatever it is, I already feel it-
so tell me a secret.
I swear I will keep it.