Poem-A-Day: Day 122

Kansas

Something tells me
I’m not in Kansas anymore,
or that I never was.

I don’t know,
it seems so hard to tell these days
where I have and haven’t been,
or what just happened
not fifteen minutes ago.

I’d like to think that I know,
but it’s painfully obvious
that I don’t have any clue.

Sometimes I wonder
if Mark Twain was right,
or if I’m wrong,
should I have optioned
for the mustache?

It doesn’t seem to be the priority,
or I never was,
always being the option,
never the opted.

Maybe I’ll slow down,
find Kansas in a stack of pins
and throw it straight to the sky
to see where I can stick it,
because it has been lost
where the sun don’t shine for years.