Sit down to write a poem,
first word to come to mind
every
single
time
is “toothbrush.”

Why in the world?
What rut in the neuron path
sends my thought in this direction
every
single
time?

What could possibly cause such a fixation?
I even wrote a poem about a toothbrush once,
how it somehow worked its way to the back of the drawer,
and I had to search for it
every
single
time.

Was not a good poem.
Maybe the universe is waiting
for me to write a good one.

This ain’t it either.