There are so many ideas. Sometimes, I wonder if these ideas fall out of the sky, or if they float around, suspended in air. Waiting to land like flies at summer cookouts.
Or... maybe, they're on the ground - kicked up whenever we shuffle our feets, and tap our toes. Maybe ideas are carried by sunshine; I come to my best when I'm bathing in sunlight. There are so many ideas.
Do they bounce off of the tops of our heads, and settle on the most open? Like Velcro in coarse hair, do ideas get stuck. Do they decide to come and go? And do they ever feel like they've had enough? Will it stay through hard times? Even when I run?
Or will it hop on the shoulder of the genius down the street? The carefree genius down the street.
Does an idea like to be hidden, or exposed? Dark or light? Do ideas like the cold? I can adjust.
Do they melt into skin? Vaccuum into nostril, or seep in through our eardrums? Because there are so many us'es, but there are so, so many ideas.
Can I translate ideas into fruit? Are ideas organic? Do they consider language? Do ideas come in slang? Ebonics? AAVE? Will I accept them if they do?
I have so many ideas...
Cramer, aug 22 2018