Swooshable thoughts,a duplo rejection
of baseplate reality, like a mylar celebration
hoping its way to the rainbow warrior aurora.

Solutions are plethora, when lacking clutch power:
sinch the skull on a string; dumbbell of ten pounds,
a thumping brick against the hip.

But obstinate technic rolling remains, into vignettes
of the tomato latticed community gardens,
while the rudderless bodybounces
off door hassenpins, bruises on boards.

All the while, the disembodied watcher sees beyond:
fruit swelling to bram spheres
glutted with blueberry awe,
spiders weaving blay stories
into braids, cheeks greebled with dew

When returned, reacquaintance with self
is like sorting through the lost and found;
blasphemous fumblings of others erlings,
marvelous in unfamiliarity.