Coiled wire near a tea cup.
Like a lake and a fat short man next to it.
I stare at both,
I mean the wire and the tea cup,
and wonder where the poetry has gone.
Am I empty like the teacup?
Or rambling in circles like a wire
connected to neither power supply nor device?
Could the wire and the teacup make a team,
rambling in circles of emptiness?
That made sense to me.
I must be happy,
Having feared not making sense in the first place.