Knowledge is a tricky thing.
You don’t seem to forget it,
Unlike misplacing your pen
Or forgetting a new name.
But thoughts,
Tend to be sticky messes.
They hang around like a bag of sand over your head
Just waiting for the perfect moment to present itself.
And you dwell on them for so long:
Until every twist and turn is mapped out.
Until every outcome is dependable and sure.
For better or worse.