We all have those tiny betrayals of mind,
A thought slips, then vanishes—left behind.
A name we swear we knew, now gone,
A “what was I doing?” at the crack of dawn.
Hands drawn to Bubble Wrap, a guilty delight,
Pop, pop, pop—it vanishes the night.
An extra step, a stumble, a miscounted stair,
The body reminds us it’s always aware.
Moans from chairs, creaks from beds,
Joints negotiate as the day treads.
A sigh at the stubborn jar, a groan at the breeze,
All of these quirks, subtle, aim to tease.
We chuckle at screens that freeze mid-thought,
At socks that vanish, leaving one caught.
At murmurs we make when thinking aloud,
At laughter erupting from nothing allowed.
It’s these little oddities, our shared human art,
The whimsical slips, the quirks of the heart.
From brain farts to pops, we’re woven the same,
A patchwork of laughter, a life without blame.