Feet which are tired

Sometimes are mired

In mud which is thick

And so gooey, it sticks

Us into fixed postures

We do become lost yet



And even when we pull back

We realize we are stacked

Into corners where some

Have pushed us, quite numb

To our needs and wants

Because they have shunts

Which they can manage

As part of their carriage



But connecting with you

Straight out of the blue

Is something they cannot

They think you're too hot 

And thus cannot at all be 

Their fresh new cup of tea



So they feed you enough line

To pull you in just fine

And then when you bob up

They throw out their scraps

And leave you to float slow

On waves as they gloat so



And then when you grab

The side of boat to snag

Yourself back into dinghy

As you try to bring the

Oars out to hold onto

You hear one scold you



And next thing you know

You are paddling in slow

Away from the small raft

And then you hear laughs

Which waft on a breeze

And you know it's a tease



That you were ever there

For you never had a chair

And just listened with care

As people had their share

Of comments to make as

You tried to partake less

Involved than before

For latecomers scored



With idle words and gestures

As you listened to lectures

Which spoke of much simple

Without holes or dimples

And then when you asked

For quiet as you masked

Yourself with much envy

As you hastened to pen the

Simple words you'd hoped

They'd hear ere they eloped



All of a sudden the rug

Was pulled out so smug

You found self floating

On waves now choking

And as you thrashed about

Your teeth gnashed out

And waves which crashed

About your body splashed

You with consternation

As your frustration



Built up to a frenzy

And did quite lend the

Commotion as it appended

Itself, and then mended

And then the crude show

Took on a new fallow

As what was meant to be

Now became past fantasy.



- Tristram