I ponder the system's shortcomings and mine.
I'm hung up on the answer
I know was incorrect
because I googled it after the test.
I am gutted by these slaphappy smarties
who gulp down gray matter with their morning smoothies.
It is awkward here,
on the cusp of simpleness and intellect.
Suddenly, my phrenic unrest
is interrupted by saffron-flowered trees
shedding their petal potpourri
into a confetti typhoon that rises
to fight, with dazed delight,
my caffeine-frazzled mood.
Petals flake and flutter down like crisp ash
in a golden dream
to a pool of color splash,
and the yolk of my cares is whisked to a cream
by this floral rain-
this strange yellow hurricane.