the words weren't mine

there are two types of people in this world
they said those who divide us all in half
and those who just can’t rustle up a laugh
at their inability to relax
on an afternoon by the man made lake
west of the old boundary line with one eye
just the one mind on the imminent threat
not to dressing for the Clubmen dinner
but instead standing and delivering
whatever is necessary to get free
of the shadowy thing that interrupts
itself without thinking switches focus
from analysis to tatami mat
and the sound of the cat at the threshold