In Michael’s text
I read a thought
I’ve had before
But never best
For best’s a fore
A silly me
I am a me
A sopho-more
A consciousness
A train of thought
A be of cell
Of one of lot
Of tried or true
Of crimson cot
Of words that rhyme
With meaning naught
A struggle since
I saw that day
My mortal wince
Till gone away
Till weed a bye
A sober self
No laws abide
No crashing shelf
No confluence
Of now and past
But one a now
That never lasts
But ever here
That never ends
A fighter’s fright
Forever fends
For not a one
Of me is me
I am but here
A current “see”
A currency
Of moneys’ past
A second one
And line of last
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