I’ve drawn a blank;
can’t think of what to say.
My thoughts, like migrating birds
distracted from their route,
have flown into the farthest recess
of my mind,
and slipped into a silent stupor.

I used to have
good thoughts, and bad thoughts,
skinny thoughts, and fat thoughts,
ugly thoughts, and sad thoughts.

At times, they held discussions.
Sometimes they’d argue,
and sometimes they’d fight.
Sometimes they’d even have a truce.
But then, one day
during an awful altercation,
foreign thoughts invaded my mind
and, like cunning creatures,
charmed my thoughts, using an unfair tactic:
Something mysterious and overpowering
rendered my poor thoughts helpless.
So, like the intoxicated,
They flew scattered and confused
in every direction,
finally coming together
in the farthest recess of my mind.

The foreign thoughts
took off in their foreign ship
which, in its hot wake,
erased the roads and routes,
pathways and passages,
maps and compasses,
experiences and memories,
zest and motivation
from the mind
of one of life’s travelers.
And so I’ve drawn a blank.