I rummage through plans
that fall into the wash
when my wants disagree
with my musts.
My plans run with red
ink from things I should do,
turn my socks pink
and chew through my pants.
Perhaps I should set up
a table and sell plans at
Saturday’s church
rummage sale.
Someone might pay me
or trade me a list
of the things
that I like to do best.
inspired by day 5 of the September challenge, rummage, in the Garden of Neuro Institute Poetry Circle
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