I spent years grouping the little bits into place.
It first occurred to me
while I was vacationing on the French Riviera.
The central mechanism would connect
when it was only supposed to switch.
I took courses at MIT
and the Atlanta School of Solemn Mechanics.
But even that didn’t prepare me
for the microwave overload.
When you tinker with random thoughts,
you always seem to find a loose memory somewhere.
It often takes hours to unscrew
the tightness from the astringents and in-capacitors.
I prefer to twist the resistors,
till their transmitters overheat
and their diodes blow.
I’ve never had too many
loose tanning oils to contend with.
Sunstroke will sometimes cause cancer.
And my cooling fans are always running at full speed.
Just in case I have to tackle the big waves.
You do understand
that when blue water hits the beach
the silicone crystals in the sand
vibrate at the same frequency
as the unknowns in your head.
The processors always blink
millions of lights on and off
a message you can’t afford to miss
even when you’re wearing a speedo or bikini
or nothing at all
you do understand don’t you?
THE CIRCUS . . . . . . . . . AND THE ZOO 
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