Wait

Just a pile of ideas that became a poem. Funny how life happens like that, isn't it?

I can picture it now, fifty years from now, an English class no so different from the ones I'm in now debating endlessly about the meaning of the poem.

"It's clear he meant this....."
"No, this line obviously means this...."
"Yeah, but at the time he wrote this poem, consider...."

Let me say this now. I have no idea of any meaning to this poem. This is just a bunch of ideas I strung together out of boredom.