Hold on to your mind like a 3D map--
everything happens through six degrees: I
appear to be steady but fail to prove it--
vacillating can make one neurotic.
Experience sucks, but it’s taught me this much:
swaying and yawning haphazardly,
when it’s time to move on I’m all at sea
and I’m loath to wait when the tide is low.
You’ll find me a-rolling deep in the kitchen
surging and pitching dinners to kin,
under fate’s decks and the world’s rough roar,
rigging my sails with a cheery heave-ho,
giddy and groggy from the stormy swell.
Equipoise doesn't come easy, I yell.
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