I Never Have a Stupid Thought

I never have a stupid thought;
No one can point at me
And make me seem like what I’m not:
A triviality.

The box of chocolate milk I drink
Is filed I know not how;
But scientifically I think
It comes so from the cow.

The moon is not of green cheese made,
Of that I am most sure;
Its owner for the best he paid,
and got Wisconsin pure.

My paper is all over red
And also black and white,
To think of it just fills my head;
I dream of it at night.

One time I saw a painted snake,
My sight it turned him pale;
To flee, a hoop himself did make,
His mouth caught in his tail.

One time I saw an orange horse
That wanted me to ride;
His saddle and his reins, of course,
were painted on his hide.

I dreamed I had a foreign car,
A low-slung job, in red.
It wouldn’t take me very far
because it’s made of lead.

It puzzles me that people think
That what I think is queer;
It causes me sometimes to wink,
Sometimes to shed a tear.

No matter what they think of me
I cannot tell a lie;
I am whomever I must be,
For my best friend is I.

Copyright J. Norman Reid. You may copy this poem and share it with your friends, but you may not reprint or publish it without my permission.