I know for a fact that my brother Michael is, indeed, a rummager. I have personally observed him rummaging through thrift stores and antique shops on our roadtrips every year, and I think it's not unreasonable to assume that he also rummages when he's on the road between art shows, tucking his finds between the drums he's planning to sell. After all, rummaging is a disposition, not something that one only does when one's sister is present.
Rummaging
I don’t know “why we’re here”
I really don’t
But as long as I am
I’m going to do some rummaging around
I’m pretty sure
I’m not looking for clues
To life’s mysteries
I’m not much of a detective
But consciousness
If we may call it that
Exposes great wonders
If that’s what one’s looking for
I have no compunction
To tell others what they are seeing
If asked I will share my view
Knowing all along about life’s parallax
How about we just get together
Over a good cup of coffee
And share some thoughts and amusements
And let the absolutists sit in the sand
I have no gripe with dogmatism
Save the tedium and bland taste inherent
In servicing some need to ignore
The glorious beauty of imagination
If life is to breathe
And I believe it should
Then perhaps we should pick our minds
Up off their duffs and take them for a little walk
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