A Mind of Its Own

I attempt an observation,
precise and aloof,
but it runs away to Uruguay
all moody and judgmental

I try to put a hat and tie on it,
daring debonair-
it runs around in its underwear

It starts as a walk in the vacant street-
then pulls all the world aside
to do cartwheels with the kids

A simple ode is simple enough-
one would think

until it props itself up
on a pile of grievances

Or inserts its cheery balm
when a lament is what I ordered

One tear gets you ten,
so serious that something
puts its foot out to trip me
raucous laughter from the bushes

it makes one suspect that
that a poem has a mind of its own
and it’s the mind of coyote