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On the edge of confusion there lived a small mouse
Who existed in chaos outside of his house.
At least four dimensions were always unstable
Which meant that he never was really quite able
To know just exactly how big or how small
Or whenever or where was whatever at all.
Of friends and relations he had quite a ton
And mad as a hatter was every last one.
They visited often but nobody knew
How many, how often, whenever or who
Would sit down to dinner or what they would eat
And where they would do it or whom they would meet.
They lived with tomorrow behind them and so
When yesterday happens quite younger they grow,
Till finally reaching the time of their birth,
They all disappear from the face of the earth.
On the edge of Confusion © Anita Allen 10th August 1998
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