I find similes a struggle,
like trying to tie my shoelaces up
with three hands:
two hands to do all of the work,
and one superfluous third wheel
to oversee their efforts
and take all the glory.
There is no glory in tying up shoelaces,
unless you've got a miraculous third hand
who never works, except on its public image.
Your smile is like a sunset -
you see what I mean about similes?
You see what I mean about smiles?
I trip over my undone laces
while looking at a sunset smile,
bang my head on an argumentative lemon tree,
and consider the really wild notion
that I need to pay attention
more often than I do
to the wild waters
of whatever it is that passes for my mind.
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