where does my brain go?

Where does my brain go
When it seems like it is hiding
From me
When I can look at the future
and it all seems so clear
and yet out of focus
when will I take the time
to figure out what is going on
and will I know the answer
somewhere out there someone has
the replacement bulb for the
headlight not working

I walk the streets of a foreign town
And the people speak to me
Without saying a word
And it is like I know them and what
They are going through
And I know I don’t yet it seems so real
Like silent talking and a nod of the head
Tells me their story

And my brain feels like it is on constant caffeine
Though mostly it feels tired
And words I write seem to say nothing
Worthwhile
Though I know what I am trying to say
And cannot find the words or meaning
Where is Cinderella now and what would the
Other Boleyn girl be doing if she were alive

In a world without Pricilla potter and marlene stumacher
Who cares why denise or Christie are getting divorced
Why does middle America worry about rich and famous America
Does it matter what Lindsay lohan is doing right now
And of course it doesn’t really but does it and to who

If the Yankees win a game or lose it does the world change
And become better or worse and does it change the life of anyone
Other than Yankees or yankee fans
Does it wipe out the memories of being a kid and rooting for
Warren spahn and robin Roberts
Does my world consist only of the past and harry Anderson
Or willie mccovey getting four hits off of robin in his very first game
Or do I remember that wrong and do I really want to google
It to find out and how many years from now if someone were
Reading this would it be before they wondered what googled meant
And is it a good thing I didn’t mention records or eight tracks
And where is my 45 copy of “go now” by the moodie blues and
“Lose your money, but please don’t lose mine”
And if my father were still alive would he still be yelling at me to turn down
the volume and would I say in just a minute
and why do I understand that so much better at 61
than I did at 17
and what do I know really as I search for what’s next and find only tomorrow
and I know that I must move quickly or else I will just wallow
in everyday nothingness like these past two years spent searching
and watching and chasing a little white ball
and why do some people just have it and others do not and why does the same clothes
on two different people look great or way out of place
and why can’t Microsoft word let me put words where I want them rather
than have them do it automatically for me and then put them in the wrong place
and isn’t it a good thing that I never did drugs if I can think like this without them and why did george carlin die when the world needed humor
and is it all just momentary pablum as my father used to say

but I am far removed from where I started to be and am writing about stuff I had no thought of writing about when I started and was trying to see if I could just put thoughts on paper that made some sense without thinking about them before I typed them out

and so where did my brain go for the last ten minutes or so and what is robin Roberts doing right now and harry Anderson is unfortunately still dead and I still have no idea where potter or stumacher are and is Barbara j still drawing pictures of palamino horses
and is carl tancredi still playing dots and does it bother him that I am one day older than he is and I bet he doesn’t remember me at all and that is ok for I am not that guy who was there in 9th grade and viet nam saw to that and then cancer piled on and I am someone different than even I remember but better and worse and if I could go back I certainly wouldn’t go back that far because I couldn’t stand to be that dumb again

and so I will go search for my brain and stop this for now and maybe Michael rush has the answers because I think he knew Priscilla and marlene also
and maybe mr cannon is still playing basketball and mrs fisher is done crying and mrs Higgins has forgiven me and someone should tell mr prone that I still have the breadboard I made in his class that he gave me a b- for and I could tell mrs Jacobson that I am still jogging some 52 years later thanks to her and mrs weiner and they can stop kidding me now about liking anita I can’t remember her last name

and maybe someone nice married ms wallbridge, the love of every 6th grader who wasn’t in love with mrs eisenberg and I didn’t really mean to hit the principal with the dusty board eraser that I was throwing at someone else who ducked

and my world is great and I love it all! Especially the ice cream and pizza.