Leaning on the picket fence, (because,
they are so comfortable)
my mind handed myself a cup of tea,
the one labelled,
sagacious synaptic synergy.
I sipped on it soporifically
while cosied in the verdancy
of assumed medicinal verbiage
in the vortex of a linguistic hurricane,
the ones like an old phone exchange.
A busy one.
The tea took its effect.
(This used to be one of my favourite shows. And Katie’s voice. Wow.)