Dangling by a thread or a tiny bit of string, I wish that phone wouldn’t ring.

Is it the man from the gas, or is it the man from the water, trying to remember, everything her daddy taught her.

I’m always on that line, hanging by a thread, thinking anxiously, as thoughts run around my head.

Maybe it’s one of those days where everything goes wrong, perhaps I should meditate, listening to the lyrics of a song.