I wonder

I wonder what came first, the words or the music? Did someone

"set" the words to music, or was the tune always there? It seems

dumb to ask, but I'd really like to know.

                                            I wonder

why bacon sizzles in the pan. I understand how the drumstick

hits the drum head, causing the air inside the drum

to move, the other dream head vibrating sympathetically 

and the air around the drum carrying the sounds waves, but

I don't know what vibrates in the pan. Is it the grease? 

(I decide not to worry about the "flat' language

of my poems, not to worry about my poor

powers of observation. I hate epiphanies

anyway and "fine writing.") 

                        Why do we need a theory only

of difficult things? Zen cured my ear worm, I might say. 

Tunes still rattle in the rafters, but I don't care about them. 

Other emotions, too, ebb and flow, dread, regret, rancor. 

Joy even. 

        Insomnia is just the fear of insomnia, nobody says they 

have insomnia at 11 in the morning, after all. Earworm is just

the fear of the persistent tune, not the tune itself.