Something about Iron

Ever sit to get thoughts in word but all you can seem to ryhme with is iron and potash? I’m in this specific boat and hey, I gotta tell you — pretty friggin exasperating. I’ve had moments this week when silliness has hit me at the busiest of hours. Like this yesterday when one of the kids I (pretend) baby sit swallowed a peanut she liked by accident and tried to get it out with a fork. What a dork! And that’s not it, I missed three whole episodes of birds anatomy (the silliness) while at it, a spatula that had my iron on it .. threw away a pretty much ordinary fork, but still …  I had to lose it. And of course the kid. Giggles. What am I, human? I ate them.

Any hoo, Iron sucks.
Anyone with a magnet can trace it. Litrerally. Plus, water erodes it so no sex for this poor element. At least not in the way we experience it. And you, how often do you think about ironing? [[Reflection runs away]] or did you not know those were made of iron!? — I yell after it. But to be honest I’m utterly clueless about this all. Then again, it’s (iron) so popular no one writes about it willingly. Can you think of anything more tragic than this? I probe. Not being able to change form unless hot or banged? Having everyone know of your weariness and You, not quite figuring out what you did to deserve all? Or better yet how to fix it? I’d just end it. I don’t like where this is leading, but there’re some options. But in just the mere case that some actually do; Not pleased, are the words I’ve chosen.

So kids, don’t be like iron. Or grasshoppers.

I wrote this entire piece staring at drums of iron containing disturbing swarms of grasshoppers outside my window — most just hoovering about and others trapped.. tricked actually by their strange love for shiny nothings. Drawn to such lights which I assume is party, they’d hoped. Two pointless factors in all this, both utterly helpless but I bet even they think they’re in charge of their own destiny. Ouch. Way I see it tho, it’s Love we oughtta be worried bout. Desire & Cravings as such that make us predictable … Not me, Not SIRI, Not the change of power, or even why that just came up. –Not even Trump, I think. Worry that you love your partner, your pet, football, foosball, basketball … other balls, straight to your favourite candy, or even artiste. But not that old blue belt you quite never wear cause it makes you look tan, I urge.
Be it those little annoying birds that keep fighting their reflection in your bedroom window.

I’m serious.
Take nothing for granted.

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