He switched me on and surfed my moods and desires,
He thinks I am making progress;
I am proud and confident too.
Do you think he could proclaim me normal if I spoke louder?
He is making a flowchart and a family tree.
All kinds of roots.
He believes in summary.
It’s like when we were kids and Tom chased Jerry
On ladders with rungs that would melt away.
So am I getting there?
He doesn’t know. Maybe. Perhaps. He doesn’t care.
He has to catch a bus, he has to fry an egg.
He is here. So am I. We’re talking.